In the Beginning, There Was Balance
by Pistol-The-Dimension-Hopper
Summary: She'd woken up on the side of a road with only the clothes on her back and the seventeen dollars she'd saved for her breakfast. Picked up first by cops, who ask for her name; a ridiculous name. So ridiculous that, along with her situation, that they deem her immediately crazy. Now stuck in a loony bin, she needs to find the reason that her heart pulls her toward Pontiac, Illinois.
1. Chapter 1

She didn't know how many days she'd been there, exactly. The mental ward was monotonous, and average, with only the few daily breakdowns of resident's to cut into the routine. She'd been there for few years, at least. Of that she was sure. And what she could remember about that day had been something she was never going to be able to forget.

She'd been sitting in her room that day, laptop open as she streamed her favorite television show. She was ogling the gorgeous features of Mark Pellegrino, Jared Padalecki and lusting over how perfect Jensen Ackles mouth was.

It really is unfair how unearthly that man's beauty actually is.

"CJ, it's time for your meds."

The orderly's bright, peppy voice cut through her thoughts, and the young adult blinked slowly out of her doze to see the mocha-skinned nineteen-year-old place a tray on the table beside her door, giving her a gentle smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Like veal." Her muttered response was thick with sarcasm, and she barely flicked her hazel eyes to the door before returning them to the ceiling, "Thanks Lucas."

"Please eat, this time," the orderly requested quietly, shooting her a briefly disapproving look when he caught sight of her thin, bony wrists in her baggy hospital-grade smock, practically swimming in the smallest size they offered.

She'd been brought to the middle of nowhere just shy of 2005, much to her absolute confusion. Waking up in a pile of burnt trees and upturned dirt in a giant hole. She spoke with countless police officers, on why her records were never shown, why her fingerprints were not in the system, and why she seemed to think it was over twelve years past the current date.

She was placed promptly in a mental institution, eighteen years old and over ten years behind the real date, she wasn't able to understand just exactly what had happened.

Except, when she was asleep, she was.

Her dreams, vivid to the point of near tangibility kept her sane. At first, she dismissed them as just that, extraordinarily vivid dreams. Episodes of Supernatural that she would cling to to remind herself that it could be a Hell of a lot worse. Remind herself that as soon as she turned sane by their records, she was free to check out.

And every night she would pray.

At first, in her old world, she had done it with mock seriousness. She had been watching the series almost religiously after homework and getting home from work. She knew about Azazel, Meg, Ruby, Lucifer, Michael (The dick, she would never like him), The mark of Cain, the darkness, all of it. She prayed to Lucifer, to Gabriel, to Balthazar, but she didn't pray to Castiel. That seemed like something she didn't want to do; like it was something she needed to earn, as weird as that was.

And through all of this, every time she would fall asleep, she would relive each and every episode over and over, details and dialogue searing into her brain until she was muttering jokes and references under her breath throughout the day and itching to use her salt shaker to line her single barred window.

_Praying became a joke.._

It was stupid, and yet..

With each passing day, she grew more and more restless, and even more tired. Sometimes, she would fall asleep directly into her desk, or even in the common room while she was playing a board game with some of the other residents.

And then, she felt it, something dark, and sharp, feeling like it was tearing at her skin and organs, clawing and scraping. She hadn't made a sound, her silent scream caught in her throat as she hit the floor of her bedroom, almost thankful her door had been closed for all but a crack. She lied there, on her side, for what felt like hours, unwilling to have visions, and unable to keep herself from sleeping, and the sudden, excruciating pain had hit thrice fold.

She left the hospital the next day.

She stared blankly down at the freshly-packed earth of the small clearing, a ratty, worn strap of a leather bag clenched tightly between her fingers as she eyed the crude cross stuck in place to mark the grave.

There were dried boot prints. Someone had been there, recently, but there was no sign to see if they were coming back or not.

She knew this place, the headache proved enough. Her three hundred mile hitchhike proved something when she aimlessly wandered.

She had found Dean Winchester's grave.

She felt torn between crying, or screaming. She wanted to pull out her hair, pound her fists to the ground. She want to stomp her feet and curse the skies.

She was twenty-two now, almost twenty three.

Falling to her rear, she leaned back into the grass, closing her eyes as she inhaled slowly, and let all of her irritation seep out.

What was she doing here?

Her body didn't want to move, like it was commanding she watch it. Pay attention to the unmoving, nearly dead grass in front of the grave.

The dates were off, and there was no way she was going to sit there for another three and a half months.

Not without something to do.


	2. Chapter 2

She pitched her tent just outside the blast-range Castiel would create when he would bring the righteous man from Hell. And every night she prayed. She would pray to Lucifer, apologies, mostly, and often, when she could only feel her gut churning with displeasure and guilt; singing, soft melodies and songs that she had heard in her world. Trying her best to make Hell just a bit more bearable for a while.

The first time she'd managed to pry herself away from the grave had been the first of only nine trips.

She'd done as many things on her list in eight hours that she could manage.

She'd swindled a motorcycle (much to her chagrin), and gotten new plates.

She'd gotten an anti-possession tattoo, in the form of a decorative tramp-stamp on her lower back. With the money she'd nicked from swindling poker-games and pool, she'd gotten several more tattoos. The warding Castiel had gotten when he'd become human, trailing in a rope around her left ankle. Her right ankle held a few other symbols, mostly magical ones, and the horn of Gabriel, something she was sure she was going to need at least once.

She pitched a tent in the area she'd chosen for the three months, looking over the notebooks she'd filled with every detail she could possibly manage after her dreams. She'd bought a heavy-duty duffel bag, and purchased hunter-clothes, as well as trying to determine the tells of hunter-catering establishments for things like spell ingredients.

That had been the last time she'd left the grave for more than eight hours.

When she'd gotten back, she'd felt such a painful pulling sensation she only managed to knock herself out at the opening of her tent.

It rang in her head that morning. As clear as a siren.

Dean Winchester is saved.

She didn't know how she could understand it. The odd language sounding like butchered greek, ringing in a pitch higher than anything conceivable, but it was clear and smooth as she repeated it on her tongue.

She lied in that tent for hours, only getting up once she felt the pull completely disappear, and a lingering sense of completion flood her chest.

A snapping was heard a ways away, and, as she carefully poked her head out of the zipper, taking in the two and a half feet of grass that would have been the difference between her campsite and a pile of ash, she managed to catch sight of the grave being pawed at from below. Quickly scrambling to get out of her tent, she snatched the shovel from its place beside the door, bolting for the grave and immediately shucking the dirt out of the way. She could hear quite, yet hoarse screams from beneath her, and when she had seen the hand break surface she had lunged for it and pulled. The dirt, after her many times of loosening it after rainstorms or hot days, fell away with ease, and she had to use all of her weight to get his shoulder, then his head, above ground. Now with a more stable grip, as he was clutching her arm, too, he scrambled to get out until he was finally up, while the woman promptly fell back with the shift in weight.

With over a hundred pounds of male crushing her to the ground, she managed to roll him off with the last of her energy and fall onto her back with a dry cough.

Both humans lied there, gasping and wheezing, for several long minutes, before the blonde haired man had managed to push himself up onto his elbows, and turned to look at the woman beside him.

She was pretty, in a delicate sort of way, but the scar on her cheekbone, directly below her left eye, said something else about that. She was dressed in a light grey tank top, with a dark blue flannel over it, a pair of ragged, dark jeans with torn knees and sturdy grey boots. A leather pouch was strapped to her right thigh, and an old bag lied limply on the ground next to her, looking just a few pounds short of falling apart. She was dressed like a hunter.

Her pale nails were chipped, and filled with dirt, probably from the frantic digging, and her messy, long brown hair looked like she had just rolled out of bed.

"Are you alright?"

Despite him being the first to sit up, covered in sweat and breathing now close to normal-ish, she had been the first to speak. She had turned a pair of small, greenish hazel eyes up to him, a frown tugging at her mouth as she tried to sit up. She managed, after a few seconds, and rummaged around in her back pocket, before pulling out a small flask. She held it out to him calmly, letting him silently stare at the engraved, biblical designs, before taking it, and uncapping the lid. He drank the water fast enough to warrant a cough, and he felt the small, soft hands rubbing his back before he had heard her move. He was dazed, and rightfully so, so when she was maneuvering herself behind him and helping him stumble to his feet toward a now obvious campsite almost inches from the blast range, he felt justified in his numb shock.

"There's a store, just up the road awhile," her voice was quiet, and careful, and he managed a slight nod when she hurried toward the tent and pulled out a thick, dark grey duffle bag. She left the tent standing, after pulling out a gas can and dousing it, lighting a match to set the camp ablaze before returning to his side, and grasping his hand to lead him toward the less-destroyed line of brush.

She managed to get him to sit awkwardly on the back of the seat, shoving her duffel in the sidecar of the 1954 BMW bike. She had a feeling the guy she stole it from, (well, stole was a strong word, he really shouldn't have bet his ride in a drunken game of poker), wasn't too happy about losing the beautiful machine, but she was far from complaining when she'd managed to get everything packed and settled before handing the helmet to the blonde.

"Safety first."

"So, what's your name," the question broke the near twenty-five minute silence between the two adults when the male had spoken up, half-way finished with a water-bottle and his third energy bar. She was tinkering around with the cheap, plastic keychains on the counter. She glanced up from the small fob she was inspecting to meet his pale green eyes, her chapped lips pressed tightly together when he raised an eyebrow in question, "I don't think I can keep calling you "Motorcycle-girl" in my head."

"Eat," she stated instead, turning back to her task with focussed, eyes, "My name isn't important." "It damn well is," his voice was raspy with disuse and dryness.

"Go wash your face, you're filthy, then we'll talk," she gave the order at a softer volume as she lifted a chain to inspect it's design.

"What in the Hell is this-?!" His demand was sharp, and he had come back into the main store from the staff bathroom to see the short woman loading bags with food. Mostly energy bars, but also things like candy or chips. When she looked up at his entrance, he could see the surprise on her face at his lifted sleeve, where he displayed the giant, red mark on his skin.

"Does my hand look that big to you?" the sarcasm in her answer was enough to stun him, not expecting the slight laugh in her voice, but when the melancholy returned to her eyes, and she returned to her bag stuffing, he shook himself out of it and hurried over to her. "What are you doing?"

"Packing food and water for our trip," was the soft response when she'd gotten to her knees to fill the bag with the entire stock available with hostess pies. He caught himself blinking at her dumbly, before his mouth started working again, " Our trip..?"

"I'm not letting you hitchhike," was her only response, dutifully followed by, "Get the water from the fridge-thing, and some coke, if they have it. A magazine or two, if you want them, it's going to be a boring ride."

He was hesitant to do as she said, but, after feeling the dry, aching soreness of his throat, he shook his head, and did as she said. He'd sort out all the details later, and he'd question her on everything as they left. No way was he letting her take him god-knows-where.

"Don't. Touch. Their cash box."

Her sharp, almost annoyed words had his palm halting over the buttons of the machine, she'd instructed him to find entertainment and other things he might need, and, on his way for cash, stopped him cold. "I have enough. We already took food and water, we're not robbing them blind."

"How much do you even have?" he grimaced toward the worn, clearly old bag at her hip, but her glare and cleared throat brought his eyes back to her angry ones. "Enough, like I said . Now come on. We don't exactly have a lot of time before-"

A static noise cut their conversation off cold, and the girl looked immediately startled, a curse leaving her lips as she fumbled with her bag and pulled out a clunky pair of headphones.

"Oh shit- put these on- hurry-!"

"What's going on-?" he was notably tense by the sudden jump from the television, the radio buzzing on soon after, and his muscles coiled as if in preparation of a fight. "Put these on-!" her voice was louder now, authority and fear leaking into her tone as her eyes darted for the windows, "Do you want your ears to bleed-?! Hurry up-!"

The radio had picked up static, and a ringing was starting to echo throughout the store. The girl quaked in her spot, practically throwing the headphones across the aisle toward Dean when he'd moved toward the salt. Her arms covered her head as she crouched down, Dean doing the same just as the windows exploded, glass shooting inwards and coating the floor and stock in glittering crystals.

Ever so slowly, she lowered her arms, grumbling Enochian under her breath as she hissed profanities and used His name in vain in every way that she could.

She would punch Chuck in the face the second that she met him, she didn't even care anymore.

"You should listen to me when I give you a warning," her voice was soft again, and she winced when he'd turned his angry eyes to her. "I don't want you to get hurt. You could have gotten cut by the glass."

"Who. Are you?" his demand, while met with a moment of silence, did not go unanswered, and when she had met his eyes, her hesitance was gone, and a small, relaxed level of grudging acceptance was in its previous place.

"I'm the girl who gripped you tight and pulled you from that grave, the man who pulled you from perdition is not in league with me."

"What?" he sounded confused, as well as slightly angry, so she shrugged her shoulders, and glanced pointedly toward her bike, almost breathing a sigh of relief that the headlights and taillights had not burst. "I'm here to help you."

"How do I know you're not a demon?" his question was stern and indignant, his hand fisted around the salt container he had leapt for pre-explosion.

"I was carting around holy water, which you happened to drink all of, by the way, and I have salt rounds loaded into the shotgun in my bag. I don't think demons make a habit of carrying that around."

He watched her like a hawk for a few seconds, both of them unmoving and simply eyeing each other down. However, with a simple flick of his wrist, a spray of salt had covered her from her head to her torso. Her eyes pinched shut briefly, but she looked otherwise unmoved, sticking out her tongue to catch the stray crystals on her face before shooting him a look that conveyed how done she was with the conversation. "I prefer salt on my nachos, my fries and in my cottage cheese, please do not make a habit of putting it in my clothes or hair. I hate sand enough as it is, please don't add to my dislike of finely-ground substances."

"..Where are we going?" he asked after a moment of watching her shake the salt from her hair and clothes, briefly catching his eyes on her figure before shaking himself out of it and addressing the problem, "I'm not going to be carted around god-knows where with you, not knowing anything."

"We're going where you choose to go, or have you not been listening," she spoke up, huffing as she turned to grab the bags that had fallen and stuffing a few magazines into the pile beside what he'd added, rolling her eyes skyward at the sight of Busty Asian Beauties before shoving it deeper inside and slinging it over her shoulder. "Don't you have someplace to be? A house to return to?"

"..."

He was silent when she managed to push the bag into his chest, giving him a small, serious nod when she stopped in front of him, "That's what I thought. Now come on, I'm not letting you drive her, but I'd rather you didn't take anyone's car. Now, do you want bitch or side-car? I put you in bitch for the drive because I wasn't sure if you'd manage to get in and out dehydrated, but you seem fine, now."

He glanced briefly at the rather small, bullet-shaped car attached to the bike, and closed his eyes to hide his eye roll.

"...I'll take backseat."


	3. Chapter 3

"Yeah."

"Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"It's me."

"Who's me ?"

"Dean-!"

The line cut off.

He tried again.

"Who is this?"

"Bobby, listen to me-"

"-This ain't funny," the voice cut him off sharply, "call again and I'll kill ya'."

The dial tone cut through the cheap, grunge-covered payphone, and Dean stared at it in startled confusion, snapping his eyes out the clear wall to see the female mindlessly sorting through her duffel bag, boredom on her face as she tapped her fingers to a beat he couldn't hear. She'd told him that, with him being "dead", it was stupid to call a grieving family.

"Are you coming?" the mouthed words were the only offered communication she gave him before she'd driven them both in the direction of Sioux Falls.

Dean had tried, repeatedly, to ask her things, but she would rev the engine over his words, ignore him, or pointedly turn up the radio, often when Queen or Kasas came on.

At least he didn't complain about the music.

When she'd pulled into the scrap yard with a turn of gravel and a grunt of annoyance, she pulled the helmet off of her head quickly and nearly slapped it into the blonde's chest. He'd been resolutely silent the last half hour of the ride, most likely with nerves, but with those nerves came the hunter's habits. While holding tightly to her waist the entire length of the ride, his thumbs had rubbed slow, rhythmic circles into the flesh there. Had she not felt how coiled and concerned he was behind her, she would have thought he was doing it on purpose.

"Here's our stop."

The green-eyed male blinked quickly as he undid the helmet, letting the black visor flick up so he could briefly examine the house, and taking it off much the same way she had, though his anxiety seemed to have melted. Pure relief. That was all he could feel. He glanced toward the girl, who, rather than mounting her bike to leave, had kicked out her ankles and relaxed against the taut leather, throwing her head back with a loud, deep sigh and closed her eyes.

"Hurry on ahead, I just need a second," her voice was, as it had mostly been since he'd met her, quiet, and smooth, his jaw working a bit as he glanced at the house, the girl, her bike, and then closed his eyes, making up his mind.

"Alright, come on in when you're ready, then. I still have questions."

"So do I," she turned to give him a small, playful smile, and he could see the watered-down flames of amusement in her flecked eyes, before they were once again hidden by her bangs as she lied back. "I'll be just a second, Cowboy."

Dean took a slow, deep breath in, before nodding, and turning to trample up the stairs. He could see a flicker of movement by the curtain, and, after giving the wooden door five, firm knocks, waited only a few seconds before it opened to the gruff, older male that was his father figure; growing up, and now.

"Surprise." He shrugged a bit, but he was smiling. He was back.

"I-.." Bobby took a step back, face pale as he tried to understand what was in front of him, countless answers, all monster-types, flickering across his eyes as he tried to determine what exactly would kill the imposter in front of him, "I don't.."

"Yeah, me neither.." the air seemed to settle around him, and not for the first time, he wondered what in the absolute fuck happened to bring him back topside. "But.. here I am.."

Bobby's fingers inched along the end table behind him, his face carefully blank until he swung forward with the silver blade. Dean ducked under the knife, the knee-jerk reaction to disarm him kicking in as they were pulled into a flurry of limbs. Outside, hearing the muffled sound of struggle, the woman perked up, hazel eyes sharpening as she swung her legs over the side of her bike and turned to jog toward the house.

"Bobby-!" Dean was thrown away from the scuffle, and tossed into the next room and Bobby took a few steps to advance, "Bobby it's me-!"

"My ass-!" was all the elder hunter was able to manage before a pair of small, lean arms swung up from behind him, locking beneath his shoulders and swinging him sharply to the left. A foot, from his right, swung up sharply, knocking the knife from his hand, while a small, well-placed fist got into his jaw, making him see a bit of white before he stumbled away, his hearing kicking in to hear the Dean look-a-like snapping, "What are you doing -?!" "He had a knife , Cowboy," the voice, a woman, from what he could tell, was too quiet to have been stern, but there was an undertone of apology when it echoed again, "And I am sorry for intruding, Sir, but you'll need to refrain from stabbing this man. I am not quite sure why, but I am deeply compelled to keep him out of harm's way."

"Who the Hell are you?" He managed to reach an iron poker just as she managed to pick up the knife, he readied himself for a swing, but when she grabbed it deftly by the blade, and held it back out to him, her expression calm, and her stance relaxed, he hesitated. Never a good thing to do, but for how panicked the look-a-like was and how calm this new woman was, he couldn't seem to immediately take the first swing. Instincts be damned, she felt harmless.

Didn't hurt that she was polite, either, despite not answering, and speaking of.

"You didn't answer my question," he repeated, "Who the Hell are you?"

"Woah-woah-wait-!" Dean could see the urge the man had to start swinging, so, putting a firm hand on the woman's shoulder and half-way jerking her to stand behind him, he held out a hand toward the elder male in surrender, "Your name is Robert Steven Singer-! You became a hunter when your wife got possessed-! You're about the closest thing that I have to a father-!"

The man seemed to calm some, eyeing up the two as if they would sprout tails or horns, thinking over the words.

"Bobby.." Dean's voice was low, and pleading, as the hunter slowly lowered the knife. "It's me.."

The man, looking more relieved than anything, shakilly reached out his left hand to the younger male's shoulder. Seeing him tighten his other fist around the poker, however, the female lunged forward just as Bobby did, bringing up her forearm to smack directly into his and knock the offending weapon away. He was bigger than her, and she was nearly thrown across the room, but stabilizing herself, she managed to throw herself out of the melee and get into a defensive stance just as Dean ducked a swipe from the knife that Bobby had recovered.

"I'm not a shapeshifter-!" He managed to grasp the hunters elbows and hold him from behind, both men now red faced as they tussled. Seeing as the talking was at least on track, the girl gradually eased out of her stance and went deeper into the kitchen. She needed something hard and strong after today.

"Then you're a revenant-!"

Bobby was thrown across the open space, turning just in time to see the look-a-like brandishing the knife he'd taken hold of. "Alright.. If I was either," Bobby's alarm bells flared when the copy pulled up his sleeve, exposing the pale underside of his forearm with a calm, breathless resolution, "Could I do this.. With a silver knife..?" No sooner had he made a decent-sized gash in his arms did the woman's voice pierce the still air.

" Ah-! I'm not wrapping that, that is technically self-inflicted." The girl's voice cut across the sudden silence between the two, and she was seen pouring out two glasses of scotch, one healthy one for the older male, and a smaller one for herself. She rolled her shoulder a bit, trying to dismiss the brief, sharp feeling on her arm, before directing her attention to the men."I'm not one to point out stupidity, either, but that was just dumb. You could have just pressed the flat side of the blade against your skin and prevented the possible infection. Not to mention he's already wearing a silver ring.."

When she had gone quiet, eyeing the wound with disdain, it seemed to snap the men out of their confused trance, putting them right back into action.

"Dean..?"

"I've been trying to tell ya'.."

Both men's voices had run dry, and the woman reclined casually against the counter edge, closing her eyes as she left them to their moment. Simultaneously, they both swooped in for a tight hug, patting each others backs firmly with quiet, breathy laughter. When they'd pulled back after a few, long moments, they met each other's eyes with a more relaxed, relieved understanding. "It's good to see ya', boy," the elder man whispered, grinning when Dean nodded back with a quiet sniff. Neither would dare admit that they had a tear or two tucked in the corners of their eyes. They didn't have to. "You, too."

"How did you bust out?"

The conversation was quiet now, and the woman managed to sigh in relief as she sunk into one of the kitchen chairs in silence, lifting the bottle of jack she'd procured to read the label.

"I don't know.." Dean turned away for a second, lifting a hand to rub his face as he shook his head, "I.." he turned back to Bobby, just as the man had gotten a hold of an opened silver flask. "I just woke up in a pine bo-"

Water splashed his face, some getting into his mouth and falling down in rivets.

"..Not a demon, either, Bobby."

"..."

"..."

"Sorry. Can't be too careful."

"I like him. Third time's the charm, Cowboy."

The water dripped from his face to the floor in small, sad droplets, and he closed his eyes briefly before shooting her a look of slight annoyance, "How about you take these tests?"

"How about you clean yourself up? You smell gross. Like muck and sweat." Her rebuttal was as smooth as the glass of scotch she held out to the elder hunter, raising an eyebrow at his obvious signs of skepticism, "Nice to meet you. I'm CJ. I helped un-bury him from his grave. Also drove him here."

"So your name is CJ?"

Dean's irritation was palpable at that point as he rubbed his chin and cheeks with what he could use of his short sleeve. "Why couldn't you tell me that earlier?" "Because I didn't want to have to talk to you alone," she smiled a bit, the teasing faint, but there, before she shook her head, "It's not of importance. Just, I really hate my name. I'm only saying it because I was rude and barged into this man's home. And, technically attacked him." She turned to him, then, bowing her head at him firmly, "I am deeply sorry, Sir."

"None of that Sir, nonsense," the silver knife was held out, and she glanced between the two of them, before holding out her pointer finger. "Prick me, Cowboy." "Why are you calling me that?" He scoffed, reaching forward to do just that. Pleased that there was no sizzle, Bobby held out the flask with the remaining bit of water. They emptied it on her wrist, and, with no reaction, relaxed.

"My apologies," she gave a soft nod, before looking up at Dean, "And I call you Cowboy, because I have not been formerly introduced to you. For all I know, Dean is a nickname given to you, deriven from the Gilmore Girls show. I wasn't going to make any assumptions."

"Gilmore Girls?" Dean repeated under his breath, thoroughly confused, shaking his head sharply before levelling her with a firm expression. "My name is Dean Winchester. And I've got questions for you."

"Dean Winchester like Sam and Dean Winchester?"

His eyes hardened at the quiet question, but her face remained passive, however, when she turned around, picking up the two glasses, she held one out to the older male, "Here, I poured, we need it." Seeing the younger male open his mouth again, she cut in, with an almost mother-like tone, filled with sternness and warning, "And you need water . You're not hydrated. There's electrolytes in the gatorade. Drink that. Also. Go clean yourself. You still stink."

Five minutes of Dean and Bobby quietly muttering in the corner later, Dean stopped his way toward the stairs and disappeared into the bathroom. Polishing off her glass, CJ stood and turned to go to the sink. Catching sight of the dishes, she rolled up her sleeves and began washing. It was a process she'd always done, in every house she'd ever stayed at. Something about doing other peoples dishes made the task calming and mindless.

"You don't need to do that," the gruff voice of the elder hunter reached her ears from nearly two feet away. He was watching her intently, and, seeing how she jumped, startled from her task, he'd ruled out monster, and hunter. No one could be that relaxed.

"Take a sit, girl, we got a lot to discuss."

"So you're from the future?"

"Yes, Sir."

"None of that Sir nonsense, now, I told ya' that."

"My apologies, but what would you prefer me to call you?"

"Bobby's fine as anything else."

Bobby and CJ sat at the table on opposite ends, the shower still running upstairs and a nearly half-finished bottle of jack between them. He looked intrigued, as well as skeptical, eyeing the young woman as she sipped slowly at her third glass. "What year?"

"Twenty-Eighteen," was the quiet response. "Who's president?" he asked, more out of curiosity than anything, a look of revulsion crossing her face as she shook her head, "His name is Donald Trump and he is the embodiment of trash and vile behavior. It was either that or a pathological liar."

"Sounds messy," he huffed.

"And awful," she shrugged.

"So," he poured himself another generous glass, offering her the lip of the bottle, though she politely declined with a raised hand. "Why are you here?"

"I unfortunately have the uncanny and most downright terrifying visions of a pair of brothers battling monsters, demons, and ghosts every time that I fall asleep."

"Beg pardon?" was the only respond he could give. She looked up to him from her amber-filled glass, swirling it around gently, before setting it back down with a soft sigh. "I dream of the Winchester brothers. Every night. And in these dreams, people die. Many people that they care about. It physically pains me to have these dreams. When I had woken from my most painful one, it was actually four months ago.. It felt as if I were being devoured by a wild animal.. And then, I found myself running along the road, hitchhiking where I could, running where I couldn't.. I just had to hurry..

"I found a grave.." her eyes glazed over and her hoarse voice lowered an octave. "I just.. Stood there, for the longest time.. I was tired, and hungry, but it hurt to move.. And, finally.. I forced myself to leave.. The pull.. It was still there.. It wanted me to wait at the grave.. But I needed food and water.. Better clothes.. Somewhere to sleep.. I left for only a few hours.. And I did as much as I could before the pull hurt too much.. I got the necessary tattoos for protection, won a few poker games to do it, also winning a ride from some poor drunk sod. She's a 54'. I actually feel sorry for the guy." She gave a small, dry chuckle, and Bobby polished off his glass, waiting in silence as she gathered her words, and continued.

"I stayed for three and a half months.. And then, I heard screaming.. I'd spent those three months keeping the dirt loose.. I don't know why I was desecrating a grave, just that I needed to.. And in hindsight, now I see why.."

"So you got him from Hell-?" Bobby clarified, only to furrow his brow when she shook her head firmly. "No. It wasn't me. It was something else. I only helped him out of the grave . He was resurrected by something else. It made the windows explode when we stopped at a store. Sounded like EVP, but I couldn't be sure.."

"Spirit?" he asked. She shook her head, "Couldn't be. It was hot. And there were too many frequencies overlapping on the radio. Spirits can only strand two, sometimes three together. This one had about fifty stations overlapping." "Demon?" he asked, then, and she shook her head a final time, "I don't see how, there was no black smoke. No figures. No sulfur. Just Cowboy and I."

"Why'd you stick with him?" he asked quietly. She palmed the side of her glass thoughtfully, a solemn look on her face as she breathed in, then breathed out slowly, giving him a look of pure exhaustion, "Honestly.. I'm more of a sap than I let on.. I don't want people to die.. I.. I want the correct people to receive justice for the events about to be transpired.."

"And those events would be..?"

"The Apocalypse," her answer was swift and to the point, her eyes betraying none of the panic a normal person would be giving right about then. "The exact way Dean was brought topside is unknown to me," not a complete lie, on her part , "but I know the reason I had gone to him. I'm here to help. Things are going to get a lot more messy in the near future. I need to be sure that you're prepared for that. And, when I say messy, I mean messy ..."

"So.. visions.." he repeated, both becoming silent for a moment when the pipes fell silent, before returning to their conversation. "What exactly does that entail?"

"Seals," she shrugged her shoulders, glaring at the table as if it were the cause of all of life's misfortune. "Believe me, I want absolutely nothing more than to be ignorant of this life. I'm not a hunter. I've never hunted. The only reason I was confident in disarming you, is because I was raised in a city, where krav maga is encouraged. It also helps that I was raised with mixed martial arts." "So you're not a hunter, then why do you want to stay? Fancy moves can only get you so far in this life." Bobby made a good point, but she'd had three months to prepare for that argument.

"Believe it or not, I'm pretty knowledgeable about the life. Plus, there's a lot of innovative life hacks that can solve a lot of stupid, reoccurring problems." "How long have you had these dreams?" he asked casually. "..Just about eighteen years, now," she grinned. Christ, she felt old..

"How old are you, anyway?"

Dean was fresh out of the shower and leaned against the frame of the doorway, watching them with interest. If Bobby was relaxed enough with her to give her his scotch, she couldn't have been too bad.

"Not sure," she shrugged, a smile curling her lips as they locked eyes, "I was born in March, of 1998. That would make me, what, nine?"

Bobby, sipping his scotch, didn't even flinch, while Dean openly spluttered at the revelation, eyes snapping wide as he unabashedly stared at her. She looked a Hell of a lot older than nine .

"Enough teasin' girl, you'll give 'im a hemorrhage.." "Yes, Bobby," she chuckled a little, turning to give the elder Winchester a small wink, "I'm twenty-two, Cowboy, relax."

"But-" "Time travel." Bobby interrupted him swiftly, giving him a warning look, "You try to wrap your head around it, then you'll really get a hemorrhage.."

"I'm not drunk enough to have this conversation today, anyway."

The woman's statement was followed by the downing of her drink, and she quickly rose to set it in the sink. "Nor am I up to being awake for more than an hour more. I'll be heading to the most affordable motel you can recommend. I'm also going to leave my number for you."

She quickly washed and rinsed her cup in the sink, turning back just in time to come face-to-chest with Dean Winchester.

She nearly punched him, rather, she settled for giving him a glare. "You need to wear a bell for my mental health. That is not a normal way to walk."

"Where do you think you're going?" his demand was quiet, but calm. He was curious, just as much as he was annoyed, "You haven't explained anything about how I'm back, why I'm back-"

"Do I look like a magical knowledge guru to you?" her reply was indignant, and when she had ducked to get around him, she turned her attention toward Bobby. "I'm getting a cheap motel room, do you have any recommendations?"

"Well it ain't no bed and breakfast, but there's a couple spare rooms upstairs," his words were followed promptly, by Dean's exclamation of "What-?!"

"I can cook, what's your breakfast go-to?" she was quick to agree, the added security of knowing that the elder Winchester would be closer to her, and effectively more protected, settled something deep within her chest. "I also enjoy baking, and, as you noticed, cleaning. If needed, I can also help out in your garage. I'm not an expert, but I can tune-up, buff out and give a decent paint-job." "Deal," the elder hunter got to his feet and they gave each other a firm shake, Dean's head going from one to the other back and forth as he tried to process this. "Bobby, we don't even know this chick-!"

"Her name's CJ and she offered to cook, you gonna turn that down even after she tried to take a knife for you, boy?"

"Saying it like that implies I might like him," the girl smiled with the statement when the Winchester had gone silent, his eyes boring sharply into her frame as she tucked her arms against her chest and sent the elder man a sweet smile. "I'll make you a good dinner tonight as thanks. Do you have any preferences? I'll be running to the store for the ingredients, should you want something specific."

"Hold up," Dean finally cut into the quiet back and forth, halting the conversation immediately as they turned to him. He inhaled sharply, and shook his head, "First and foremost, I need to find Sam. He hasn't been answering his phone."

"I'll leave you to your business, then," CJ turned to leave the room after a moment, patting Dean's shoulder, the one that had been marked, on her way toward the stairs. "Bobby-?!" she called back, half-way up and struck with a thought. "Which room would you like me to take-?!"

"Second from the bathroom-!"

"Thank you-!"


	4. Chapter 4

CJ flopped onto her back with a huff, freshly showered and dressed in a pair of jeans, and a green flannel. She had no idea if the boys were going to bring her with them to get Sam, but she was willing to bet that they wouldn't.

A knock sounded on her closed door, and, after brushing the damp bangs from her face, she got to her feet to tug it open. Dean stood at the threshold, looking uncomfortable and slightly annoyed as he glanced toward the stairs, then back at her. "Get your stuff, we're heading to Illinois."

Or, maybe she should stop making bets about the future..

"For..?" she asked casually.

"My brother. Hurry up, I wanna leave an hour ago."

"At least you smell better," her quip was answered with a scoff, but the twitch of his lip didn't go unnoticed. Turning back inside the room, she grabbed the handle of her bag, not yet packed, and turned to follow him out after shutting the door quietly. It took her a half a minute to lace up the grey boots on the porch steps, and she dumped her bag in her side-car before she reached for her helmet.

"You comin' with us, girlie?"

Bobby's voice cut through her focus, and she turned to look at the duo packing into the rusty grey Chevelle. "I'm good-!" she called back loudly, motioning for her helmet and waving him off, "I don't like tight spaces-!"

"Suit yourself-!" the elder male chuffed, frowning a little as he helped himself into his car. Dean gave her a long, lingering look before following suit, and she fixed on her helmet and scarf before turning her new baby up.

The drive was long, with only one stop for a bathroom break. CJ managed to clean stock on their original and peanut butter M&Ms at the stop, much to the clerks confusion.

Once they'd gotten to the gritty love motel, her nose scrunched up in clear distaste. It was going to smell so bad, she already knew..

After Dean had managed to convince the clerk that his woman was seeing another man, he was given the room his brother had checked out and hurried toward the stairs. Bobby sighed sharply before following, CJ only a few steps behind. The second floor was just as gritty as the first, and as they rolled to a stop at door number 207, Dean immediately raised his fist to knock. The lone female leaned against the wall beside the doorway, out of sight of anyone inside.

The door opened almost immediately, and a nimble woman with pale skin and long dark hair opened the door in next to nothing, looking entirely blase, if not slightly annoyed by the two, gruff men standing in front of her. "So, where is it?"

The men exchanged a look, and Dean turned his, almost puppy-like confusion back towards her. "Where is what?"

"The pizza," her attitude was full blown, now, and CJ stepped directly into her line of sight with a dark glare while Ruby had kept her glare on Dean, "That apparently takes two guys to deliver-"

"You best watch that mouth of yours before I soak it in holy oil," the hiss was low, and calm, but it had shut the demon long enough to look at her, startled. CJ glared at her briefly, before turning her eyes up to Dean, "You sure this is the right room? Last I checked, your brother was neither female, nor a cunt."

"Excuse me," Ruby started, playing the part of the offended woman, but the ice that radiated from the human woman's voice was enough to chill bones, "You are excused. Though that heartfelt apology for your deplorable attitude should be aimed toward my handsome friends here, not myself."

"Hey. Is ev-"

A voice from inside brought everyone's eyes to the room behind the raven haired female, and Dean looked like ten bags of sand had fallen from his shoulders. Sam was taller, taller than CJ even anticipated, her head probably only coming to his lower pectorals. She could fit two of her into one of him. Yikes . His hair was longer than season one, obviously, the almost artfully messy curls pushed off of his forehead and left falling around his ears, nearly reaching the back of his neck.

The brothers locked eyes and there was a single instance of silence. Sam glanced at Bobby, likely asking if what was happening was really going on. It was quiet for two more counts, and the most relaxed, relieved smile pulled at Dean's lips.

"Heya, Sammy.."

Sam looked out of breath, his eyes wide and his pupils blown, and as Dean went forward, arms out to reach for a hug, Sam pulled a knife. Bobby was inside before CJ managed to, Sam having knocked Dean into a wall while the older hunter grasped at his arm.

"Who are you-?!" Sam's question was loud, and damn near shrill. CJ ignored them, her eyes trained on the raven-haired woman 'cowering' by the door.

"What, like you didn't do this-?" Dean scoffed, loudly, looking both annoyed and frustrated, as well as heartbroken and angry.

Ruby met her eyes, feeling the attention, and they stayed locked for several seconds.

"Do what-?!" Sam demanded sharply.

CJ gave her a slow, narrow glare, and casually lifted her hand to her shoulder, slowly lowering it down, to the raven haired woman's view, to show the tattoo imprinted into the skin there. The seal of Lucifer stood prominently in front of a pair of orange, and flaming red tinged wings.

The argument was now over, but Ruby was still staring at her, the flannel moved again to cover the design before she turned back to the fight casually, as if the exchange were never made. Ruby stared for only a few more seconds before she'd snapped back into persona.

They were hugging now. Cute. She almost cracked a sweet smile. But the weight of what she had done, what she will do, and what Sam had done probably less than an hour ago were weighing heavily against her chest.

How the fuck was she going to do this. For now, by the fear in Ruby's eyes, she would at least have a bit of rope to leash her with. Not to mention, so long as she doesn't parade around naked in front of the boys, they shouldn't ask.

Not at all a problem, considering they were sex walking and she prefered to stay alive long enough to meet Chuck and punch him in the face.

"So are you two, like, together?" Ruby's question broke CJ's revery and the most god-honest, relieved laughter broke out of her body. She'd laughed harder than she'd had in over three years.

" Ahahahahahahahahaha-! Oh wow, hahaha-! That will never get old-!"

"CJ, shut up-!" Dean barked the order almost automatically, but the way she had nearly crumpled to her knees in a sort of obvious relief had him reeling, what the Hell was up with this chick. Sam seemed startled more by the woman laughing than he was at the question, staring at CJ as if she were a sudden intruder on a precious moment, or a stranger who'd plopped at their breakfast table.

"So.. is that a yes..?" The raven tried after the giggling had died down. Sam was immediately able to shake his head, his breathing still a bit laborious from the sudden scuffle, but otherwise fine, "No-! No, he's.. He's my brother.."

"O-Oh.. got it.. I.. I guess.." Ruby played the act near flawlessly, both awkward and uncomfortable as she glanced between the two with skeptical eyes. "I should.. Probably go.." Sam almost wanted to call her out on it, but, knowing his brother and Bobby were both there, he knew not to give anything away.

"Yeah, yeah.." Sam nodded quickly, urging her out faster with his eyes as she did the awkward caught in a one-night stand routine. "That's probably a good idea, sorry.."

CJ watched Dean eye the woman up and down as she moved, a smug smile twitching across his lips as he glanced from his brother to the supposed babe.

Dressed and clutching her purse to her chest, Ruby was ushered toward the door by Sam. Locking eyes with the brunette, the raven managed a confused, narrow-eyed glance, though the brief, flickering expression of feral warning from the female brunette made her face go blank. 'Talk later,' CJ had mouthed the words just before Sam had turned, lifting her head to meet his openly curious and cautious eyes as he looked her up and down, probably immediately assuming hunter, if the way his guard flared up was any indication.

"So, call me," Ruby played the part of charmed, happy girl as Sam leaned in the doorway. They played up the act like second nature and CJ wanted both popcorn and a rotten sack of tomatoes. "Yeah, sure thing Kaitlyn.."

"Krissy.." the pang of hurt in the demon's voice almost had the futuresque-female snorting, a small, smug smile pulling at the corner of her mouth before she wiped it away into a dubious expression of intrigue.

"Right," Sam nodded, innocently. Ruby glanced around with a blank, awkward expression, turning to leave down the hall.

"I almost feel sorry for the poor bitch.. Key word being almost .." the quiet murmur was meant for Bobby's ears alone, and the older male sniffed a little in agreement when he met her glance.

"So tell me, what'd it cost?" Dean's question cut through the tense silence, Sam sitting almost stiffly on the faux tiger print chair as he gazed up at his brother in wonder, said male leaning casually against the motel counter.

"What the girl?" Sam smiled sheepishly as he leaned down to lace up his shoes, a laugh on his lips as he tried to play it off as embarrassment, "I don't pay, Dean."

"Not funny, Sam," was the only stern response he received.

"And I highly, highly doubt that.." CJ muttered, though it was in Enochian this time, getting a sharp, curious look from the older man beside her and offering him a slight grin. "Old language. Tell you later."

"To bring me back," Dean clarified sharply, arms still folded tightly across his chest, "What'd it cost?" the bags of sand had returned to his shoulders, though the strain was now in the coil of his muscles as he forced himself to remain stiff and stern. CJ almost wanted to give him a back rub. It looked painful.

"Is it just your soul or was it something worse?" Dean was so done and tired at this point.

"You think I made a deal?" Sam sounded genuinely confused, this time.

"That's exactly what we think," Bobby's confirmation only seemed to confuse him even more.

"Well, I didn't," Sam sounded almost indignant this time.

"Don't lie to me," Dean's voice was soft, but the faint trace of pleading lied reverently beneath his tone.

"I'm not lying," Sam assured them, firm and resolute. He was being honest, about that, at least.

"So what, now I'm off the hook and you're on it, is that it?" Dean insisted, his voice was still low, but he now took slow, measure steps toward his brother. "So now you're some demon's bitch boy, I never asked to be saved like this."

"You know Dean, I wish I had done it, alright-!" Sam was on his feet in a second, meeting his brother face to face with an offended, and fierce expression.

Dean was on him in a second, grasping at the lapels of his brother's shirt and getting in his face directly. "There's only one way that this could have gone down. Now tell the truth-!"

"I tried-!" Sam cut in, smacking his brothers hands away from himself and giving him a glare that nearly rivalled his, "I tried everything , that's the truth. I tried opening the devil's gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, alright-?!"

It was quite for a second, then Sam continued, his tone strained with the unshed tears and pain of those few months he'd managed to bottle up. "You were rotting in hell, Dean. For months- For months -! And I couldn't stop it.. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, alright..?" His tone lowered, eyes shifting as he blinked back tears, fists clenching as he grounded himself, his voice mello and somber. "Dean, I'm sorry.." The silence was thick, with emotion, unsaid words, and the words that had already been said.

After a few seconds, Dean had found the muscles in his jaw to work out the words he'd bitten back. "..It-.. It's okay, Sammy.." He swallowed thickly, giving his brother a shifty, but honest expression, "You don't have to apologize.. I do believe you."

"Now, don't get me wrong," Bobby's words drew the boy's attention as he spoke up for the first time since getting there, "I'm gladdened that Sam's soul remains intact, but.. That does raise a sticky question.." Eyes flickered between one another as it dawned on them, almost like a bolt of lightning. "If he didn't pull me out.." Dean muttered, turning his gaze between the two members of his family he had left, "..then what did?"

"...Well-!" The sharp clap got everyone's attention, drawing it immediately to the woman looking over a small selection of delivery-available establishment brochures as she perched on the kitchen counter, innocently swinging her legs to and fro as she spoke, "I vote we order pizza and beer and pretend tonight we didn't all try to knife each other and brush off hookers."

"Who is she?" Sam could only ask Dean once his attention had been brought back to the unfamiliar person. Something in his gut, almost suspiciously near his stomach, churned at the thought of being anywhere near her, but the strangest pull was there, as well.. Like a sort of instinctual magnet.

He didn't like it..

"That would be CJ, " Dean's lips curved around the name like an eloquent wine, though his eyes were sharp as he watched the woman with blatant disapproval, "She dug me out of the grave.." "Why was she there in the first place?" Sam muttered, turning his narrowed, suspicious eyes towards the woman who was humming softly, blatantly ignoring them both as she flipped through the options.. "Meat lovers or combination.. It's such a hard decision.. Why is pizza so hard to order after ten o'clock..?"

"That'd be cuz she felt the hellhounds tearing into Dean the night Lilith got him." Bobby's words got both of their attentions like a bomb, each giving them wide-eyed looks of shock, even Dean hadn't heard that little tidbit just yet. "Said that when she woke up, she felt a pull, followed it to the grave. Got a Hell of a time prying herself away just to get food, let alone get things she needed to live."

"She had a little campsite there when I woke up.. Just inches from the blast-site.. Just a tent and one bag.." Dean's observation was quiet as he turned back to watch the girl comparing only two fliers, now, "She torched the thing when I woke up and helped me get to Bobby's.. I.. didn't think at the time that she'd been actually waiting .."

"Yeah, well, she's got a lot of stuff goin' on that she needs to sort out, herself," Bobby gruffed, clearing his throat loudly before calling out to the woman, "The ladies are done gossipin' . Find anything good to eat?" "I'm caught between meat lovers and combination.." came the clear, dismayed cry as she flopped back onto the narrow counter, completely balanced as she threw an arm over her eyes, "Bobby.. Decide for me-! I'll buy, but I can never be in charge of picking menu items after ten o'clock-!"

"She's.. Something..?" Sam murmured. Dean flinched a little at the remark, but kept his otherwise annoyed look in place, "Oh yeah, a real somethin'.."

"Just get both, Sam's probably got beer," Bobby called, walking over to pluck the menu from her hand with a grimace, "This place gives me the jeebies.."


	5. Chapter 5

"So, what were you doing around here if you weren't digging beyond the grave?" Dean accepted the beer Sam had offered him with a nod, everyone in various states of relax as they waited for the pizza.

"Well once I figured out I couldn't save you.. I started hunting down Lilith, trying to get some payback.." he took a deep drink of his own beer as he sat down, glancing between Dean, Bobby, and the suddenly pensive, quiet woman who perched at the window, curtain drawn back as she watched the streets like a hawk. "All by yourself," Bobby scoffed, thumbing the lip of his bottle with a dry, humorless chuckle, "Who do you think you are, your old man?"

Sam returned the dry laugh, glancing at the floor in penance, and palming his beer from one hand to the other. "Yeah, I'm-.. I'm sorry.. Bobby, I should have called.. I was pretty messed up.."

CJ watched the street with vivid intent. The second she saw Ruby again, she was going to need to give her the burner number she'd bought.

Well, she bought three, but that wasn't really important.

"Oh yeah," she felt Dean move closer in her direction and turned her head to see him from the corner of her eye, watching as he picked up a lacy white bra by the curve of his pinkie in the hand that held his beer, "I really feel your pain."

Sam let out a quiet, nervous chuckle, glancing around the room to avoid his brother's smug eyes. "Ahm- anyways. I was tracking these demons to Tennessee. And, out of nowhere, they took a left, booked it up here."

"When?" Dean demanded.

"Yesterday morning," Sam offered, before taking another heaping gulp of his drink.

"You think these demons are here because of you?" Bobby asked quietly, confusion and concern twisting into his words without thought.

"Likely, but not ballpark, quite yet," the voice of the lone female occupant of the room drew their attention as she snapped the blinds shut with a tug and pulled a container of salt from her bag to liberally line the windows. "The ringing that Cowboy and I had heard in the shop wasn't demonic. There was no wavelength to suggest that it was, and while Demons hurt like hell, there is something else that hurts quite a bit worse."

"And what would that be?" Sam narrowed his eyes, watching intently as she went from window to doorway, lining everything as she spoke almost absentmindedly. "Something you have met before, but have not truly been introduced to," she spoke vaguely, and irritation bubbled between Sam's lips before Bobby reached out his arms to squeeze his shoulder. "She's like that.. She gets visions, like you used to, but.. Hers are more.. Frequent.. And vivid.."

"Run of the mill prophet without the fancy security detail," she shrugged, shooting him a small, knowing smile before returning to her task, "It was nothing demonic, if anything, it was so pure it sent out a signal for all the baddies to flock there. Mainly out of curiosity, I'm assuming."

"But you know what it is," Dean stated simply. She was silent, giving a non committal hum, before capping her salt with a grimace. "That'll have to do. Ah-!" She spun on her heel then, pointing toward Dean with the empty can of salt and a frown on her face, "Sleeve off, Cowboy, I wanna make sure that handprint isn't blistering or fading just yet."

"Handprint," Sam repeated dubiously, his eyes nearly bugging out of his skull when Dean lifted his shirt to reveal the giant, burn-like print of a hand marking his shoulder. Dean didn't even seem bothered by the question, more so the sweet time she took plucking her way over there to stand beside his chair and dig through her bag.

"What are we supposed to do, we've got a pile of questions, and no shovel. The only lead we have is a.." Sam was going to name some unpleasant synonyms for stubbornness, but bit his tongue, merely gesturing to the woman standing over Dean with a packet of M&Ms in hand, eyeing it in deep thought. "I know a psychic," Bobby offered after a few moments of silence, "A few hours from here. With something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking." "Hellyeah, it's worth a shot," Dean nodded, the eldest hunter of the three men muttering that he'd be right back as he got up to place the call. Dean glanced back at the woman still hovering just inches from him, torn between asking several questions at once, before settling for a simple one.

"Why are you shoving candy in my face?"

"Your stomach was growling," the brunette muttered, holding out the packet when he looked reluctant, "It won't ruin the appetite for pizza, that should be here in a few minutes, but double stomach pain doesn't feel nice." "Thanks, I guess.. Weird, but thanks.." Dean murmured, taking the bag and tearing it open just a bit while she took over to inspect the wound. Her hands were cool against the warm skin of his arm, the tips of her fingers carefully tracing out the shape of the hand. Pulling a piece of paper from her pocket, she pressed it over his arm, and rubbed what he could assume was a dull marker around each groove, tracing out the print with slow, practiced patience.

"So, your name is CJ?"

Sam's effort to get her to talk was weak, at best, but she had stopped all the same, lowering the marker, in order not to ruin the drawing, and turned her head to give him a polite nod. "Yes, it is. And you are?"

"My name is Sam," he offered, in an equally polite, monotone voice. He wasn't completely sure what to ask first, but, simplicity was always best, right? "So, how old are you?"

"Nine."

"Nineteen?"

"No, she means nine ," Dean clarified with a firm, serious nod, the little bit of beer Sam had pulled into his mouth returning to the bottle with a cough. "What- how can she- what?"

"Time travel," she grinned, flashing him a smile that was all teeth, eyes closed in amusement as she drummed her fingers on the back of the love seat Dean occupied. "I was born in 1998. In March. I'm currently twenty two, I've been here since just before 2005. I got put in a mental hospital when they couldn't find record of my existence anywhere. DNA never showed up, not even for baby me, which kind of freaks me out, but I suppose that if I were in two places at once, the time paradox would tear both coexisting timelines completely apart and destroy the fabric of the universe."

"English, please," Dean muttered, a grunt in his voice as he lifted a hand to his temple.

"Two of me in one place is bad, if we touch, the planet could explode."

"Much better, thank you," he scoffed, holding absolutely still when she had returned to her task of tracing. "What are you even doing?"

"Getting a copy of this, obviously. I'm putting it in my journal for future reference," She pointed to the think travel book she had placed on his lap with her bag so she could work effectively. It was quite for a few more minutes, though she had not moved from the arm of his chair, she was now taking pleasure in measuring the size of her tiny hand compared to the mark.

"It's almost yaoi sized, which is both scary and absolutely reassuring to my future plans."

"And what would those plans be?" Sam's voice was paired with Dean's intense stare, and she only managed to give Dean a sweet, knowing grin, "You're gonna meet your best friend~ And he's freaking adorable~ "

"Alright, I'm done," Dean got up from his seat abruptly, sending her flailing in her seat, arms waving as she arched backwards, however, probably in a knee jerk reaction, his arm draped around her waist and hauled her back up, effectively dumping her into the actual seat.

The two were silent for a second, trying to process why the Hell he had done that, before he dropped her, shook his head to clear it, and spun on his heel to leave.

"Ah- wait-!" Sam, struck with the sight of his brother leaving toward the door, quickly got to his feet, reaching around his neck for the cord he knew was there, "You, ah- you might want this back.." He carefully removed the bronze amulet and held it out toward his brother, dropping it into his palm.

Dean examined the old, but loved artifact with a soft sort of revery, glancing up to give his brother a brief, warm smile. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Sam brushed it off with a soft laugh.

"Hey Dean," Sam asked, quietly, once his brother had dawned the present he'd given him long ago, "..What was it like?

"What, Hell-?" Dean, surprised, took a guess at his brother's apologetic expression.

"I-I-ah," Dean shook his head when he could see his brother's puppy-dog eyes, the lie slipping off of his tongue with ease as he shuffled his feet, painting his face with confusion. "I don't know.. I-uh.. I must of blacked it out."

They shared a look, Sam looking defeated, and sad, while Dean remained cool and relaxed. "I don't remember a damned thing."

"Well," Sam smiled a little, but his voice was barely above a whisper, "Thank God for that-"

"What the fuck are you thanking God for?! He's the one sitting box seat for all this bullshit-!"

The loud, honestly irritated voice of the lone female came from the far end of the room, letting the boys know that she had heard them perfectly fine, even at the volume and distance as she crouched over a window, glaring at the street, "I swear if I don't see the pizza here in five minutes.."

As if on cue, she perked up rightly, and bolted for the door, "Pizza-!"

"CJ-!" Dean made a motion of grabbing her arm, but she ducked under him with ease and patted his shoulder as she passed, "Be right back, Cowboy-!"

She stood outside longer than she needed to with the pizza's, one meat lovers and one combination. She waited in silence for the long black haired woman to come out of her hiding in the alley a few yards over, and offered her a glare, receiving one in equal, if not more fiery, in return. "Who are you?" Ruby's question was the first words to break the general silence, but the look she got in return didn't answer anything, while a slip of paper was held out.

"My number. Use it . If I call, you answer , if you don't, I'm going to track you, hunt you, and shove that knife you love so much so far up your ass you'll taste static. Capisce? Lucifer is not something to fuck around with. And neither are the Winchesters."

"I don't' know what you're-" "Save it," the dimension crosser cut her off, relishing in the trace of fear the demon displayed, though it was quickly covered with pride and annoyance, "I want him out just as much as you do, but I abhor your methods of doing so. Do what you must- but if you hurt either of them.. I will make your death slow.. And I won't need to worry about hurting any human in there, will I? Considering you recycled that fine piece?"

"How do you know about.."

"I know everything, just answer when I call and I wont rat you out."

"Who are you?" Ruby demanded again.

CJ smiled, a feral glint coming to her eyes as she took two steps closer to the demon, the raven taking just as many steps away for distance at the threatening vibe.

"I'm one pissed off mama bear trying to keep her cubs in line, and adopt several more.. You tell Sam about any of this, and I'll be sure Luci makes you his personal hound's chew toy. Her name is Ramsey and she's got one hell of a bite.""

"How long does it take to get a pizza?"

Dean's grumble was met with a look of silence as the brunette met his eyes, slowly dragging her eyebrows upward with suggestion twisting her features.

"I'm sorry, did you want me to ignore the pizza-man's ass?"

"Seriously?"

Dean's expression flickered in both annoyance and bitterness, his teeth chewing over his lip as he worked out just why that comment made him so annoyed. Sam looked equally, if not more so annoyed. This chick was either too quiet, too loud, talked too much or didn't talk enough.

Didn't she have a medium setting?

"Boys.. and girl," Bobby's voice cut into the quiet as they poured over the now open pizza boxes, "I've got an address, you comin'?"

"But.. but pizza.." CJ's voice was quiet as she looked down at the boxes in forlorn, she felt relaxed, for the first time in ever, due to the close proximity of both brothers. Like she had her boundless energy back.

Her worst fear seemed to confirm itself in that moment.

"Fine," her voice was back to monotone as she stood up quickly, ignoring the surprised looks of both brothers as she passed them and snatched her bag from the floor by the wall, "I'm taking my bike. Hurry up." She disappeared out the door, and Bobby shot the two boys a look of exasperation. "What did you two idjits do in the ten minutes I was gone?"

"We didn't do anything," Dean defended himself immediately, his shoulders bunching up like ruffled feathers. Sam frowned at his brothers reaction, the coil in his shoulders similar with indignation as they shared a look, Dean picking up the pizzas as they moved to follow the elder man, who had rolled his eyes and turned, yelling at them to grab their crap and follow.


	6. Chapter 6

"How long does it take to get a pizza?"

Dean's grumble was met with a look of silence as the brunette met his eyes, slowly dragging her eyebrows upward with suggestion twisting her features.

"I'm sorry, did you want me to ignore the pizza-man's ass?"

"Seriously?"

Dean's expression flickered in both annoyance and bitterness, his teeth chewing over his lip as he worked out just why that comment made him so annoyed. Sam looked equally, if not more so annoyed. This chick was either too quiet, too loud, talked too much or didn't talk enough.

Didn't she have a medium setting?

"Boys.. and girl," Bobby's voice cut into the quiet as they poured over the now open pizza boxes, "I've got an address, you comin'?"

"But.. but pizza.." CJ's voice was quiet as she looked down at the boxes in forlorn, she felt relaxed, for the first time in ever, due to the close proximity of both brothers. Like she had her boundless energy back.

Her worst fear seemed to confirm itself in that moment.

"Fine," her voice was back to monotone as she stood up quickly, ignoring the surprised looks of both brothers as she passed them and snatched her bag from the floor by the wall, "I'm taking my bike. Hurry up." She disappeared out the door, and Bobby shot the two boys a look of exasperation. "What did you two idjits do in the ten minutes I was gone?"

"We didn't do anything," Dean defended himself immediately, his shoulders bunching up like ruffled feathers. Sam frowned at his brothers reaction, the coil in his shoulders similar with indignation as they shared a look, Dean picking up the pizzas as they moved to follow the elder man, who had rolled his eyes and turned, yelling at them to grab their crap and follow.

Four hours down the interstate, just as Bobby had said. When they'd gotten into town, it was way too early for them to meet with Pam, so it was agreed they'd meet her around seven in the morning. CJ hung back outside the porch as she watched the boys, glaring into the surrounding neighborhood briefly before returning her eyes to the door as it creaked open. Her entire demeanour softened, and she couldn't help but faintly smile at the enthusiastic hug the older two shared.

"Bobby~!"

Pamela's voice was thick with greeting and cheer, and she hugged him so tightly he nearly flew off of his feet..

"Well, you're a sight for sore eyes," Bobby grinned, letting her go while Pamela moved to look the three younger adults over. "So," she grinned, rocking back on her heels, she was dressed both casual and edgy, her appearance putting both boys in shock, while CJ just smiled knowingly. "These the boys, and the lady?"

"I'm no lady, I assure you," CJ quipped, flashing a smile when the physics dark eyes trailed to her with curiosity and a soft sort of glaze. She shook herself out of it quickly, returning her attention to the boys, she would address the younger woman's aura later.

"Sam, Dean, CJ," Bobby introduced them politely, "Pamela Barnes, best known psychic in the damn state."

"Hey," Dean gave her nod with his winning smile. The smile that damned CJ to a life of prophetess and possible ruin.

"Mm-mm-mm." The smile she shot Bobby made him close his eyes with a slight smirk. "Dean Winchester," the smile on Pam's face was knowing, and relaxed, unknowingly giving boys echos of looks CJ had given them prior, "Out of the fire, and back into the frying pan, huh? Makes you a rare individual." There was a moment of quiet, and she took a step, jerking her chin for them to go ahead. "Come on in."

"So, you hear anything?" Bobby asked once she'd moved to shut the door behind CJ. Pamela let the door clicked closed as she turned to give him an expression that conveyed both patience, and annoyance. "Well, I oujied my way through a dozen spirits. No one seems to know what broke your boy out, or why."

"So, what's next?" Bobby's question was drowned out to CJ as she examined the well-kept home, trailing her eyes along the interior and marvelling over the small things.

"You're not gonna summon the damn thing here?" Bobby's skepticism brought her back to earth and she shot a look toward the ceiling, before shaking her head. She'd prevent it as much as she could, but they needed to know his name, at least.

"No, I just want to get a sneak peek at it. Like a.. crystal ball without the crystal," she pat Bobby's shoulder as she passed, and CJ watched Pam move to set up her stylish foyer table into a decent alter. She decided to help efficiency by moving to shut the curtains, catching eyes with the psychic as she did so and receiving a pleased smile in response.

"Well I can't say Bobby said much about you, girl." Pam offered her a curious smile, but the suspicion was still there as she glanced between her and the two boys. "There's something, between you three.."

"Graviating?" CJ offered, flashing her a smile before shaking her head with a grimace, "Trust me, it's more of a pain in the ass than anything, I almost starved myself trying to keep it happy. And no, I didn't do it, and neither did the thing that raised Dean from perdition, at least, I hope so. If, for any reason, he was involved, I will be eating fried chicken for a good month."

"Was that symbolic?" Pam asked curiously, bending down to go through a cabinet while CJ fiddled with the blinds. The brunette scoffed, dead serious as she looked down to lock eyes with her, "Not in the least."

"Who's Jesse?" Dean asked casually.

Pam let out a little laugh, looking over her shoulder with a smile, "Well, it wasn't forever."

"His loss," the elder Winchester shrugged his shoulder. His eyes were smoldering, and CJ had to take a moment to remove herself from the situation to realize that she would have swooned for those very same eyes not five months ago. Crazy things, perspective seems to do to people.

Pam got to her feet, candles in hand, and stood inches from the shorter male to give him an equally daring, smouldering smile. "Might be your gain.." She turned to get the rest of the needed items, and CJ let the barest hint of a laugh leave with her exhale, "Yowza.."

"Dude," the boys turned a bit away from the table, Dean's voice lowered with brotherly conspiracy, "I'm so in."

"Yeah, she's gonna eat you alive," Sam chuckled, giving his brother a grin.

"Hey, I just got out of jail," Dean flashed him a smile, the buildup of desires and longings the pit had given him thrumming to the surface as he began mentally writing his newest bucket list. " Bring it."

"You're invited, too, grumpy," Pam pat Sam's shoulder as she passed them, making no mistake to flash them both a smile as she did so, before continuing on with her task. She'd heard them.

"You are not invited," Dean nipped that in the bud when his brother gave a quiet, whispered laugh.

"I love a woman who takes charge," CJ murmured, trailing her eyes along Pam's muscled arms with a soft pleasant shudder, "Lady. you are a whole lot of wonderful.."

Pam looked over her shoulder again, this time shooting CJ a wink. A pleased grin was her only answer, before CJ shook her head with a sad sigh. "Sorry, I draw the line at three ways. Four ways are too much of a literal cluster."

"Shame," Pam grinned. CJ, so bad, wanted to mess with this, but, seeing as she had other things to do, merely sighed, and shook her head with a sad smile, "Maybe another day."

Each person sat at a place of the table between the pentagram's points. CJ sat just between Sam and Bobby, catching his eye and glaring at him when he furrowed his eyebrows in hesitance. "I don't bite on the first date, Lucky, that's reserved for fourth." He grasped her hand without a word, and CJ took Bobby's with absolutely no issue.

"And," Pam reached subtly under the table, her tone casual, "I need to touch something our mystery monster touched." "Woah-!" A bang cut off her words as Dean shot his knee up in surprise, "Well he didn't touch me there." " Yet ," CJ let out a whispery, giggly laugh when Bobby looked at her. "Oh, I'm just waiting to make the jokes.."

"I invoke, conjure and command you, appear unto me before this circle." It was like a flip had switched, and the playful Pam was gone, revealing nothing but a stern, wizened physic. CJ almost swooned, but kept herself in check. "I invoke, conjure and command you, appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure and command you, appear unto me before this circle," static began playing at the old tv in the corner, and CJ could feel the tingling presence of grace tugging at the altar. It didn't want to be there. Not good. "I invoke, conjure and command you-" Castiel, my name is Castiel. Please cease your actions, now. "Castiel?" her voice changed, and she was repeating the words before stopped. "No," her voice was firm, and CJ bit back a wince, she had to stop this. "Sorry Castiel, I don't scare easy." Please do not- "Pamela," CJ's voice, cold and firm, cut into the psychic's sentence, " Stop . Now. While you are ahead. He is warning you."

"We need to see-" "You will see it-!" CJ cut her off sharply, making both boys jump with the tone, and Bobby squeezed her hand sharply in surprise, but she ignored him, Pam was still keeping her eyes closed, "Pamela, enough. Stop. He will reveal himself, at later time, please ."

Humans are not able-

"Castiel, be silent -!" The Enochian poured out of her mouth with such anger the entity stopped short. Her Enochian resumed, and she gripped the hands she held tighter, keeping the connection strong, " They will not listen to you. You are a stranger. "

"You are talking to it," Pamela mumbled the words, squirming in her seat as she tried to manage the connection, it was stronger across the table, "You two hold tighter to her, don't let go." "Pamela, this is your last chance, please do not look at him," CJ warned quickly. The urgency in her voice was met with silence, and, for just a moment, Pamela was going to ignore her.

But through the connection, there was a burst.

There was pleading, sorrow, warning.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

Her hands fell away from Dean's mark, out of Bobby's, and she pushed back away from the table, her hands flying to her eyes at the first hint of a spark. CJ was on her in an instant, crushing the woman to her chest and hiding her face into the darkness of her jacket. The candles had gone flying in her jump, wax spilling to the floor as the boys fumbled around the fallen table. Pamela grunted in pain, a piercing headache echoing throughout her skull as she clutched at CJ's shirts. "Oww.. What-?.. My head.." "That would be the frequencies.. It's normal.. Took Cowboy a couple hours to adjust, it'll be longer for you, because of your sensitivity. Just relax.. The lights are staying off. Just relax, just relax.. You're safe.. You're fine.. Nothing is going to hurt you.. You're safe, you're safe, you're safe.."

She rocked the frazzled woman against her chest for several long minutes, the men on standby watching with wide eyes, and tense muscles. "It's okay.. It's alright.." Castiel tried to warn you. You wouldn't have listened. Had you looked at his face, your eyes would have burst into flames. You would have been blind... "...It's just a bit of aftershock, you will be fine, I promise..

"I promise.."


	7. Chapter 7

CJ sat curled up on the chair at the table in front of Dean, the elder Winchester eyeing the sullen girl with near palpable malice and annoyance. "Why won't you say anything. You haven't said a word since Pamela's freak out."

She didn't even blink to acknowledge him, and for some reason, that pissed him off more. Sam was out talking to Bobby, who had stayed behind to comfort Pam, so while he was gone, he took the chance. Leaning forward, he lowered his voice, elbows on the table as her eyes flicked up to meet his. "Listen here, I know you know more than what you're saying, you've practically said so yourself, but this thing, this thing isn't a joking matter. If you know what this thing is, you need to tell us. Now . Before somebody dies."

"Sam's back."

The quiet words were the first she'd said in an hour, and Dean clicked his tongue when, true to her word, his shaggy haired brother entered the diner, closing his phone as he did so and hurrying the last few steps to take the open seat to face Dean. "How's Pam?" the blonde asked immediately. He flashed his eyes wearilly at CJ, but otherwise didn't speak to her, instead turning his attention to Dean with a relieved sort of smile, "Pam is calm, now. She's sleeping, actually, after demanding he go out to get her half a liquor store. Her eyes hurt, and sting, so she might be needing glasses. She says some things close up are blurry."

"At least she has eyes."

The mumble caught both of their attentions immediately, and the glare they received when they opened their mouths to speak were beat by a sharp, and stern continuation, "And if for one second you think I did anything to hurt Pamela, you're damn wrong. Castiel would have, literally burned out her eyes. That's what these things do. They purify and they destroy. Not always in that order."

"What is it?" Dean demanded.

"Ask him yourself," she hissed back, all pretense of former politeness, gone. "I don't think you truly understand the fact that not even four months ago, I wasn't involved with this crazy ass life." The brothers shared a quick, sharp look, but she ignored them, plowing on.

"I'd never seen a ghost, never seen a witch, never met a werewolf. Then, I lie awake one night, feeling like my heart is some old, wind-down clock trying to grunge out it's last ticks, and then bang- I'm getting mauled from the inside by something that had razors for claws and big teeth. When I come to, I have no wounds, no injuries, but I felt every second of the pain. Then I feel a pull. It hurts, and it's strong, strong enough that I could feel my brain shutting off. I snuck out of a medium security mental ward reserved for the more special cases attuned to violence. I managed to hitchhike, pickpocket, and march my way to a damn grave. And for what? For.. For a man, who I just met , to lead me around on a leash like some fucking magic eight ball for the next lottery? I don't think so-!"

Sam shot Dean a look, but the elder Winchester's lips were pressed tightly together, watching her intently as she continued to rant, fists curled in on one other and nails nearly breaking skin. "I know things, bad things, things that you do not need to know. And will not believe from my mouth. For what reason do you even think you'd be able to trust me, anyway? For all you know, you could think I'm leading you around to die. Well guess what?" she slammed her fist on the table then, leaning forward sharply when they had coiled up in preparation of a fight, "For some god-awful reason, I don't want you hurt. The thought of you hurt, hurts me . I feel when you're hurt, hungry, or cold, and I hate it . I felt numb when Dean died, like I had half of my brain working. I'm not going to let myself be some emotionless, control-lacking zombie again. I refuse. So no, I won't answer your questions. Not because I don't want to. It's because you can figure it out on your own . You have . You will . I saw it. There was a reason I said that he becomes your best friend, Cowboy. I wasn't lying."

The table fell silent, and Sam took a deep breath, before shaking his head, "Alright, if we're going to do this, we need to cover our basis. Those demons I was tracking? They might still be here."

"And what do you suggest we do?" Dean latched to the new line of conversation almost too quickly, and CJ relaxed into her seat after dipping the rosary of her bracelet into the three glasses of water, murmuring under her breath and pinching her eyes shut.

"Talk to them, figure out what the Hell is really going on?" Sam offered.

The waitress came back, as if on cue, and put three slices of pie down on the table. "Thanks," Dean nodded, snapping back to the present, Sam following suit as they adjusted in their seats. CJ slid her pie to Dean just as the woman pulled up a chair to sit down, giving them all a pleasant smile. Dean looked up from his two pies, the second one with a bit of surprise, to see the pretty woman giving him a smile. He returned it, giving her a slight look of confusion. "You angling for a tip?"

"I'm sorry, I thought you were looking for us?"

Her eyes flickered black, and the boys tensed, but stayed silent, while CJ merely, huffed, subtly lifting up her glass from the table, the rosary wound around it almost silent as it clicked with the side.

The delivery man who'd been eating pie at the counter got up out of his seat, eyeing the table in silence as he moved to lock the doors and flick the sign to closed.

The woman's eyes flickered back to 'normal' as the lock clicked shut, and CJ knew they were scared. Otherwise she wouldn't have bothered with the lock.

They were absolutely petrified.

"Dean," she hummed, reverently as she met the elder Winchester's eyes, "To Hell and back. Aren't you a lucky duck?"

"That's me," the eldest male played along calmly. CJ could see Sam's fingers slowly, minutely flickering toward his pocket, wary of the 'patrons' watching them with obsidian eyes. Ruby's knife. If he could just reach it..

"So you get to just stroll out of the pit, huh?" she scoffed, quiet, looking more irritated than anything. But CJ could see. Because she knew. That clenching of her fingers in her lap. She was grounding herself. Bullshitting. "Tell me, what makes you so special?"

"Well," Dean nodded his head a bit, as if thinking, relaxed and almost absentmindedly, "I like to think it's because of my perky nipples."

"That's only funny the first few times," CJ muttered to herself, sitting up obnoxiously and swinging her arms in a loud, leisurely stretch, "Who are you kidding, Cowboy, everyone knows it's 'cuz of your charm."

It was silent, and he didn't even glance at CJ, keeping his eyes locked with the demon woman. "I don't know. It wasn't my doing. I don't know what pulled me out."

"I do~!" CJ sang loudly, trying her hardest to get him to glare at her as she swung herself to her feet, standing from the table in an impromptu flourish, "Good sir-! A piece of pie for the road, please-? And a carryout container, if you have 'em-!" She slammed a few bills on the counter sharply when the demon only glared. He eyed her up for a second, measuring the firmness in her shoulder and seeing the fact that she put actual money down, before his eyes flickered back to human and he moved to get a slice of apple and place it in a carry out. She grinned toward him, sliding him the bills before spinning on her heel, "Alright boys, lets blow this joint. I've got shit to do and so do you."

They were still talking. Seriously , CJ rolled her eyes, skipping back over to the table just as Dean muttered, "-If you wouldn't mind enlightening me, Flo?"

"Mind your tone with me boy, I'll drag you back to Hell myself-" Sam had gone to lunge, but Dean's gesture had him pausing, however, the splash of water from the opposite end of the table did not.

It hit the woman with a hiss, and she jerked back with a similar sound, giving the standing young woman a growl as CJ casually twirled the rosary, fingering the glasses of water with a warning look. "Why don't you watch your mouth? You mess with these boys, you mess with me. Ever to think to wonder why I didn't stab you when we got here? Don't think I didn't know. I can smell your fear. Not to mention you just generally stink ."

It was quiet as the words sunk in, and Dean felt the faintest smile tug at his lips, "You won't drag me back to Hell."

"No?" the woman repeated, her skin burned a good deal on her neck and chest, her eyes dark with anger, but her tone clipped. "No," Dean repeated, as if they were talking about the color of the drapes, "cuz if you were, you would have done it already. Fact is, you don't know who cut me loose." he turned his glance toward the other patrons, who were staring at them intently, "You're just as spooked as we are, and you're looking for answers." The woman glanced at Sam, trying to gauge if Dean was bullshitting her, but Sam gave nothing away, and she turned back to Dean after a weary glance at CJ.

"Maybe it was some turbo-charged spirit, hmm? ..Or-uh.. Godzilla." Dean was just playing now. He could see it, too. CJ almost wanted to smile. If she wasn't so pissed. "Or some big-bad boss demon. I'm guessing, that at your pay grade, they don't tell you squat. Cuz whoever it was- they want me out.. And they're a lot stronger than you."

It was quiet for a beat, and CJ could see the frustration building in both of their eyes.

"So go ahead," Dean mocked, pleasantly, as if inviting her tea, "send me back. But don't come crawling to me when they show up on your front doorstep with some vaseline and a firehose."

The woman's voice was hushed, but unwavering, as she met the elder brother's eyes with a firmness that almost completely hid her terror. "I'm going to reach down your throat and rip out your lungs."

One, two- SMACK.

CJ gave a snort, grinning smugly when Sam shot her a look. Another smack sounded, and she stretched again, moving to put both of the boy's untouched pies, as well as the one she'd given Dean into the carry out. "That's what I thought." he muttered tossing a bill on the table with a slight exaggeration, relishing in the way the woman had flinched, and he moved to stand, Sam following suit as CJ already began walking toward the door. She unlocked it with a twist, and shot a glare at the man beside it, watching him back off after just a few seconds of staring. "For the pie."

"Holy crap that was close," Dean breathed out once they were several yards from the diner, the door having closed with a chime. "We aren't just going to leave them in there, are we, Dean?" Sam demanded, CJ ignored them as she moved toward her bike and started the process of putting on her helmet, tucking the pie in her sidecar next to her duffle bag."Yeah, well there's three of them, probably more, and we've only got one knife between us." "I've actually been killing a lot of demons, lately."

Once she was situated, she revved her engine, breaking them from their argument as she jerked her head back towards the road.

"One job at a time," Dean finished the argument firmly, hurrying to get to his car. He had missed his baby a lot more than he thought he had..

Dean was passed out on the couch bed, and CJ was curled up on the chair a few feet away. Sam eyed them both for a moment, taking in Dean's dead-to-the world sprawl, the books littered around him a testament to how much he was putting into research for once. CJ , his eyes trailed to her almost instinctively, and he pressed his lips together in a sort of half-frown. She was upside down in the chair, one leg shooting almost straight up where her back should be, and her hair dragging on the floor.

He'd caught himself staring at her hair when they'd been walking up the steps, snapping himself out of it with a mental smack once he'd realized what he'd been doing. This chick was annoying, and crazy, and she was withholding information. A lot of information.

He shouldn't stare at her hair or her hips when she walked. Shouldn't feel his eyebrows furrow in innocent concern when he sees how narrow and thin her wrists are.. How light she seemed to be that she barely makes the cushions on the pull-out bed bend when the steps on it.

No, he just needed to get his head back in the game.

And pray she didn't know about what he was doing..

CJ felt her eyes flicker open just as Sam pulled away, her muscles tensing as various electronics flicked on, scaring Dean awake just as it had done to her. Dean snatched his gun from beside him, taking note of the thump that had sounded from CJ falling on her head. He'd knelt beside her without a thought to grasp her arm, hauling her up with a grunt as he darted his eyes around the room for the threat.

"Son of a bitch-!" CJ screamed, her hands flying up to her ears almost immediately as she crouched down to the carpet with a wail. "Fuuuuck- Dean -! Cover your ears-!"

It took less than five seconds for the volume to catch up to his own hearing and Dean was almost immediately on the floor beside her, the pained look on her face only amplified by his own as they flinched, hearing the tell-tale shatter of after cabinet burst throughout the room, but when Dean managed to crane his head back at the sound of cracking, his eyes flew wide at the mirror directly above them both. His left arm swung around her sharply and he dove to the side, hearing her pained scream as they landed on the ground. Stray glass pierced into his skin, and he could feel a warm wetness he automatically knew was blood.

It dripped between his fingers and stained his shirt, and by the way the door slammed open and Bobby strode through, looking startled more than anything, he knew he looked one Hell of a sight.

Small fingers were wound tightly into the fabric of his shirt, and Dean had to think a moment before he registered how CJ was curled up to him, clutching at his frame. She was shivering, a blank look on her face as she muttered something in a language he didn't know to his chest. His body was wracked with second-hand pain when he saw the blood literally pouring from the wounds in her skin, and he resisted the urge to hold her closer.

It just.. Hurt..


	8. Chapter 8

The sky was dark as Bobby drove across the asphalt, Dean clutching a vaguely conscious CJ to his chest as she muttered continuously in the odd language. She hadn't let go of him at all since the motel room, and Bobby had taken one look at her, helped him clean her up and ushered him out too the car. They were fixing this, and they were doing it tonight.

"How you holding up there, kid?"

"Aside from the church bells ringing in my head?" Dean scoffed, "Peachy.." He shifted his arms around the clinging girl, flinching when her grip tightened, then relaxed, and she resumed her quiet muttering.

Rolling his eyes back a little, he tried to unhinge one of his hands, hearing the girl whimper, he hesitated, then quickly swiped his phone from his pocket, letting her adjust for a second before falling unconscious again. He brought the phone to his ear after pressing his brothers speed dial, settling back into the seat when it started to ring.

He only waited two rings before his brother picked up with a, "Hey."

"What are you doing?" his demand was more tired than anything. They'd spent a good five minutes figuring out Sam was gone, not kidnapped, and Bobby had to label him MIA. "Couldn't sleep, went to get a burger," Sam admit with an almost sheepish tone.

"In my car?" Dean's tone rose, more stern than anything, he was more than happy to be back bantering with his brother, but the situation was reaching a peak he wasn't sure he was prepared for, yet.

"Sorry. Force of habit. Hey, what are you doing up?"

"Well, uh," Dean took a glance at the woman in his arms, then Bobby, who sat silently behind the wheel, "Bobby's back, we're going to grab a beer." Bobby sent him a disapproving look, but the soft whimpers at his chest made another thought occur to him, "CJ was whining about being left alone, so we're bringing her along, too."

"Alright, well-uh.. Spill some for me, huh?"

"Done," Dean agreed promptly. "Yeah, I'll catch ya' later." He hung up quickly, and Bobby immediately launched in father mode. "Why the Hell didn't you tell him-?"

"Because he'd just try to stop us," was the only thing Dean offered. The body in his lap shifted, a sharp gasp reaching his ears before she shot up in her seat, swinging her arms and bracing herself against the door with a short scream. "Easy-! CJ-! It's us-! Dean and Bobby-!"

"D-Dean?" she repeated, her hands flew forward and he felt her caressing his jaw and skin, muttering under her breath words he couldn't quite hear before sagging against him like a wet sack of flour. "Oh, Lollipops.. Don't die, please.. I.. I don't think I could handle that, again.."

"I won't." He hesitated, his hands hovering above her, but he could feel the trembling of her body against his chest, and he tucked her head beneath his chin as he gripped her tighter. "I.. I'm sorry.. About.. About the hellhound thing.."

"You saved your brother.. Don't apologize.."

He looked down at her, stunned, "How.. How do you know about that..?"

"Told you.." she murmured, she looked to be on the verge of passing out a final time, "M' jus' a prophet without the security detail.."

Dean stayed silent, but less tense, watching her with sullen eyes as he tried to piece together what she had meant. She didn't want his apologies, because she understood, in a way, or at least understood the circumstance.

Is that why she was all crazy about her attitude swings? Sometimes she was there, and others.. Not so much.. It was like she was really looking at everything.. Like she was removed from the situation..

He wasn't sure what exactly he thought about that...

CJ sat curled up on her side in the white barn that Dean had set her in. Sigils were painted over every available surface, and a table of weapons was lied out to the side, as well as all the necessary ingredients for the summon. CJ was set out of the way, but he planned to at least wake her before they finished painting. She needed to be awake and alert if they needed to make a run for it at any time.

"Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up," a boot scuffed the woman's side, launching back immediately when an arm had shot out to swing at their knee. "Easy-! You're a peach to wake up, I see."

" Fuuuuuuck .."

The groan was low, and long, filled with pain as the young woman lied, face down, now, on the barn floor. "Mercy… Mercy, please.. My head.. Make the bells stop .."

"It'll settle soon," Dean sighed, crouching down on his heels to put a hand on her shoulder, turning her over so she didn't suffocate, "Come on, I need you mobile if crap goes sideways."

"It won't.." she muttered, getting herself up with a heave and a grunt of pain, slinging her arm around her midsection to feel the bandages curling around her arm and side. "What the Hell..?"

"Patched ya' up," he shrugged, looking away as he scratched the side of his cheek and inspected the hundreds of sigils around them intently, "I need you awake, CJ, unlike you, we don't know what this thing is."

"Why would it pull you out of Hell just to kill you?" her whisper was met with silence, and she glanced up to see him eyeing her, unblinking and expression neutral, "I've told you.. You've seen a breed of this kind before, though you've never truly met."

"That's vague and it annoys me," the blunt statement left his lips without pause, and the smile that curled across her lips almost made a similar motion twitch at his own.

"Sorry, Cowboy, I'd rather not be smought.. Smited..? Tonight.. Or anytime soon.."

"I don't even.. You know what?" he shook his head, blowing out a sigh as he did so. "I'm not asking. Tell me if you want, but if you've got some freaky-deaky know-how, I might as well take your word for it. At least," he amended, seeing the wide eyes she shot him, most likely out of shock, "-until you prove that I can't .."

"You know," she sat up abruptly, nearly knocking him off balance until she crossed her legs, sitting up with her hands pressed to the floor, Indian style. "You are the person that damned me to this life. You want to know why?" His jaw ticked at the thought, and the woman merely chuckled, dry and unamused, as she shot him a vague, defeated grin, "It was because of that stupid smile.. You gave that grin, and.. I couldn't not care.. Then Sam started shooting puppydog eyes every other night and I just.." She fell silent then, eyes closing slowly as she took a deep breath in, then out, centering herself before she continued, "I want to help you. The pain you have gone through, is unimaginable. But, it gets worse, but then it gets better. Please.. I'm not asking you to pull me into your little family, but, if I give you some advice, at least consider it.."

Dean let their breathing be the only sound left in the barn, and he finally rocked up to his feet, holding out a hand automatically when she'd craned her neck up to him. "Come on. We've got Godzilla to catch."

"Godzilla isn't real," she snorted, smiling a little in amusement as she took his hand, and he hauled her to her feet with one smooth pull, and immediately let go, afterwards. "Unicorns. Unicorns are real. Extinct, save for a few places. But real."

"Seriously?" he shot a look at her in surprise, and she merely grinned, shaking her head.

"I'll believe it when I see it," he huffed, turning to inspect the rest of their arsenal. Bobby was getting the last of it from his trunk as they spoke. Her snort of amusement got his attention, and when he raised an eyebrow in question, her grin turned almost cat-like. "You're going to be saying that a lot here, pretty soon, Cowboy."

"I'm shaking in my boots," he muttered under his breath.


	9. Chapter 9

CJ sat perched atop the table, toying with one of the weapons, a machete, from the looks of it, while Bobby painted the last of the sigils on the wall. Dean had run out to get one last thing from the car, as well as some emergency salt she'd admit to putting in Bobby's back seat during their rest stop on the way to get Sam.

"That's one Hell of an art project you got going there," Dean's voice nearly echoed through the barn, and Bobby looked up from his work to shoot him a roll of his eyes. "Traps and talismans from every faith on the globe." He set down the can as he moved toward the table, stopping beside Dean as they looked over their assortment. "How we doing?"

"Stakes, iron, silver, salt, knife," he plucked the machete out of CJ's toying hands, placing it back in it's spot and pointedly ignoring how she stuck out her tongue at him. "I mean, we're set to kill anything I've ever heard of."

"This is still a bad idea," Bobby shook his head slowly, watching silently as CJ reached her fingers out silently to grab the machete again, though Dean, without even a glance, lightly slapped her hand away. She glared at the side of his head, though he didn't look the least bothered. If he didn't know any better, he'd say they were getting along.

"Yeah, Bobby" Dean nodded in agreement, "I heard ya' the first ten times." The men shared a look, while CJ tried her hand for the smaller knife, hissing a little when Dean accurately flicked her hand away again. "Dammit, Dean-! I'm bored- !"

"And injured," was his immediate response. She glared at him sharply, but he was only mildly affected by the off-putting aura, "Knock it off. Stay out of the way, and if I tell you to run, you run . Capisce?"

"Tippens is a teddy bear. Trust me. When he warms up to you, you'll be singing a different hymn."

"Tippens?" Bobby repeated dubiously, "Is that what it's called?"

"No, its the nickname I'm gonna call him by," she flashed him a wide, happy grin, and he suddenly remembered that she was brought here when she was still a teenager. "Tippens sounds cuter than Cas . And Cassie sounds like Lassie , but I'm callin' Sam, Lucky , so there can't be too many similarly sounding names if I'm calling out a heat-of-the-moment warning.."

"..Your logic is hard to follow, but I'll take your word for it," Bobby muttered, shaking his head as he let out a heavy breath. Dean just seemed to clutch heavily at the bridge of his nose, eyes pinched shut as he muttered what sounded like an exorcism under his breath.

Probably to stow away a headache.

Gathering himself again, he shook out his muscles and nodded his chin toward the place they'd set the spell ingredients. "What do you say we ring the dinner bell?"

"I am so glad I brought my camera for this."

Dean looked over just as CJ pulled the hand-held video camera from the duffel bag she'd forced him to bring, flicking open the screen and holding it eye-level with a wane smile. "First impressions. I'm using this for your wedding, just so you know."

"Seriously?" he ground out, glancing over to see Bobby in the midst of latin, before turning a darker glare to her, "Are you kidding?"

"He'll either be the best man or the bride," she shrugged, flashing him a grin, "Or the priest. You never know."

And thus, the tense waiting game began in silence.

The sound of shuffling seemed louder than usual as the barn sat in silence.

Dean looked to his left, opened his mouth, probably to say something snarky, then closed it again, settling back into his seat.

There was a moment where the shuffling stopped, and their heartbeats echoed in their chests, and the cards were placed down between them.

"Balls-!"

The worn blue cards hit the wooden floor with a clatter, and Bobby ran his hands over his face, pushing his last investment forward, a handful of caramels and a bag of M&Ms. CJ grinned, reaching forward and tugging the pile closer to count her loot. A sucker was hanging precariously out of her mouth, and she was grinning like the cat that had gotten the canary and the cream. "Pleasure doing business with you, Mister Singer."

"That was a bum hand, you brat," the older male muttered, but the good natured shove he gave to her shoulder was playful and calm. "Deal again."

"Whatcha' gonna bet next, your fancy hat?" She pulled out a new supply of M&M bags, the snack-sized ones used in place of chips, original, and, peanut butter, with full sized hershey bars used for the big tickets. They wrote their bets on little scraps of paper she would stick to the bars with little bits of tape.

Dean could only stare in dubious bafflement as they gambled with candy and old blue poker cards. He'd been beconed over some point earlier to begin the game, and twice more during, but he'd rather remain vigilant, even if Bobby seemed to be perfectly capable in trusting her call on this.

He'd rather be safe, not sorry.

"Nah, probably one of the cars in the lot, I'll let you fix it up nice, can't just be using that bike if there's an emergency.."

"Practical betting.." she nodded slowly, her face etched with poise, "I can dig that."

"Are you sure you did the ritual right?" Dean's burst of impatience cut whatever Bobby was about to reply clean off, the impatience in his voice making his eyes roll heavenward before returning to him again. Dean glanced at his expression briefly before backing off, his knee bouncing up and down as he lowered his head. "..Sorry. Touchy-touchy, huh?"

As if on cue, a burst of wind rocked the barn, sending Bobby to his feet while CJ barely jumped, remaining in her seated position as she thumbed out her winnings. The boys were tense as the iron roof plates rattled and lifted with the force, clanging and crashing as the air howled around them.

"So dramatic.." she mumbled, chancing a glance up when she caught the edge of Dean's shoe come into her line of sight, "Don't you kick me, I know you want to, but damn, boy, relax."

"I'll relax when it's dead," he hissed back quietly, barely heard over the loud echoing crashes..

"Correction;" she stood then, lifting her earnings with a makeshift basket by using her shirt, pointing her free hand up at him like a school teacher, "You cry when it dies.. Multiple times.. Dying is practically a rite of passage for the Winchester family, isn't it?"

One by one, the lights burst, sending sparks and glass in every direction. CJ ducked her head a bit, almost squealing when she felt Dean's large, rough arm swinging around her and drawing he away from the doorway as it unhinged, then opened with a mighty slam.

Polished black shoes entered the barn, and pale blue eyes looked from right to left, surveying the room with curiosity. CJ hauled herself beside Dean, out of his embrace, to take a good, long look at the thing standing in the doorway. Had she had any decent food in her stomach, she may have thrown it up.

Blue, dark, royal blue wings sprouted from his back, flicking idly in a soft manner, as if testing the air like a snake. Her muscles locked, and her eyes flew wide. Seeing the fear on her face, Dean must have assumed the worst, because she was suddenly completely behind him, and her view was blocked by his broad, muscled back.

The darked haired male, dressed in a clean suit, and a skewed tie, walked directly through the traps and sigils, his eyes now centered directly on the righteous man he'd been ordered to pull from the damned. His trenchcoat, just a tad dirty, but not quelling his overall charm and appeal, fluttered lightly in the breeze of both the energy pressing around them and in wake of his wings.

As he neared the halfway point of the building, the two human males had begun firing. Salt rounds that pierced his skin, and tore his clothes, but did not make him flinch. He seemed unaffected, relaxed even, as he stepped closer and closer to the man he had reassembled, the elder Winchester reaching behind him quickly to move the girl in stride as he hid her from the creature's view.

Castiel's head ticked to the side as he narrowed his eyes, almost a glare. He couldn't sense her. At all. He'd only gotten a glimpse of her, before the righteous man had moved to shield her completely from his sight.

"Who are you?" the blonde's demand was quiet, but stern, one arm holding the woman behind him, almost completely out of the unknown male's sight, and the other brandishing a knife lined with symbols and carvings. " Your future boyfriend.." the whisper was almost too low for him to catch over the howling wind.

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition," the creature stated solemnly. A tad bit too emotionless to be comforting. Dean almost scoffed aloud, having heard similar words from the woman directly behind him. " Oh my lollipops, he actually said it- and I got it on camera-!"

Speaking of..

"Yeah," Dean nodded once, gritting his teeth a bit when he felt the woman behind him whimper softly, a sound almost suspiciously close to a laugh. "Thanks for that."

He lunged forward with a single step, and his knife found its mark with a squelch.

" That sounded absolutely disgusting. Eww.."

He was tempted to tell her to shut up, but the more glaringly obvious, pressing matter that stood in front of him was not fazed in the slightest of the demon knife sitting square in his heart.

" Awkward.."

"CJ, shut up-!"

His annoyance cut over his common sense, and he shot a look over his shoulder to see the woman, pale-faced and jittering, but giving a sleek, fox-like smile toward the two of them as she held out the camera, red light shining, and her hands trembling. "Aww.. but you need my commentary for the gag reel.."

She was scared.

Why did that put him on edge. Wasn't she all gung ho about this thing-?! Did she suddenly change her mind-?

All of this happened in a matter of seconds, and the creature lifted its hand to dislodge the knife, tossing it away with a careless turn of it's wrist.

" Still sounds so gross.."

"CJ just shut up for a minute-!"

"Dean I am COPING with the situation right now-!"

Bobby took the creature's momentary distraction to swing at it with the tire iron, both hunters tensing in surprise when, without looking, it held up it's arm, catching the weapon in its palm and spinning on its heel to face him. Holding up two fingers, the creature pressed them to the elder male's head, slowly allowing him to crumple to the floor in a heap.

The creature turned back to the two still-standing humans once more, his expression relaxed, with just the faintest hint of urgency in his eyes. "We need to talk, Dean."

Dean's eyes shot from Bobby, who lied sprawled on the ground, back to the creature, his back muscles coiling as he shifted from one foot to the other, not allowing CJ to be in any way in the creature's line of sight.

"Alone," the creature emphasized, seeing his shifting eyes, and the camera peeking over his shoulder, the small hand attached to it giving a soft tremble, but keeping it relatively steady.

"She's fine just where she is," Dean muttered, his eyes hard, "Talk."

CJ sat beside Dean, right next to Bobby, her jacket off and folded tightly so she could put it under his head. She'd given the fearful Winchester a soft nod when he'd rushed over, pressing his fingers to his neck just for reassurance, and forcing him not to smother the unconscious man.

"Your friend is alive," the creature assured him quietly, looking over the aged book in his hands with a sort of reverence only the barest touch of humanity could give to something completely ethereal. Dean shot his eyes up to him in stony silence, the exhaustion beneath them clear as day.

"Who are you?"

"Castiel," he offered simply his attention still divided.

"Yeah, I figured that," Dean bit out sharply, wetting his lips before he continued, " What are you?"

"Here it comes.." CJ muttered under her breath, plucking the camera she had put on the floor up to aim it directly at the two. Dean kept his eyes solely on the pale skinned man, unwilling to look away.

Finally, Castiel seemed compelled to be courteous, and lifted his head from the text, turning his eyes directly to Dean with a calm, serious tone. "I am an angel of the Lord."

Dean flicked his eyes along him quickly, doubt clear on his face. The creature smiled a bit, unused to the facial muscles and the tongue in his mouth.

"Get the Hell out of here," Dean demanded slowly. He gradually got to his feet, keeping himself directly between the man in the suit and his two companions. His tone was hard, and his eyes were unforgiving. "There's no such thing."

Castiel moved from the table, then, meeting Dean's eyes as he stood up straighter, lifting his chin with programmed pride for his father, and an ingrained loyalty only dogs seemed to have anymore. "This is your problem, Dean." His voice was cool, and relaxed, a far cry from the obvious tension in the Winchester's. "You have no faith."

A thundering clap echoed throughout the room, and CJ flinched at the bright light that soared from behind them, illuminating the already magnificent blue wings in an even finer glory. She knew, however, that Dean could have only seen the shadows that, that brief, precious second of light had given him to outline the magnificent arcs.

"He does have faith," CJ's voice was stronger than it was before, and she used the back of Dean's coat to haul herself to her feet. She could now fully see the man in front of them, Dean making no move to stop her when she gave his shoulder a sharp squeeze, and stepped up to be directly beside him, "He has faith in his family. And I have faith in him. It is I whom holds no faith toward your father."

It was silent, and the angel seemed to be trying to bore his eyes deep into her being, if that wasn't what he was already doing. His brow was tense with concentration, and the smallest hint of frustration had tugged at his lips.

"Some angel you are," Dean spoke after a few moments of silence, "You nearly made that poor woman go blind." Castiel ducked his head, clearly chastised, but unwilling to lower it for too long. He stepped forward with an air of nonchalance. "I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be.. Overwhelming.. To humans.. And so can my real voice.." His tone was even, and explanatory, and as he spoke, he flicked his eyes between the two humans evenly, although his gaze lingered on the woman that stood beside his charge. "But you knew that."

When she offered no words, Dean continued, not skipping a beat as he met Castiel's eyes. "You mean the gas station and the motel? That was you talking- ?"

Castiel gave a silent, innocent nod. "Buddy.." And Dean, despite his judgement, couldn't help the sarcasm that left his lips. "Next time lower the volume.."

Castiel nodded again, clearly taking his words to heart and mentally taking notes. CJ could see the cogs working behind his eyes. She had questions. A lot of questions. But she couldn't ask them. Not quite yet.

"It was my mistake."

"He sounds even cuter than he looks, Dean, can we keep him?"

The blonde shot her a look, but she was back in her perpetually terrified go-to, grinning like a loon and beaming toward him. He, at least, had figured that much about her. She was serious when she was calm. When she got antsy, so should he.

"Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage, I had thought you might be one of them.."

A low keening sound left the woman at his side, and Dean shot his eyes to her when she abruptly flinched back, ducking behind him and clutching the camera to her chest. "Okay- That's it- I give- I cannot deal- I cannot do this- Oh christ- oh fuck- Please put those things away .. Or at least don't wave them around-!" Dean's mouth opened to question her, one hand falling back to clutch at her elbow, but a soft hum from the creature had his gaze returning sharply to the man in front of them. His blue eyes were now wider, if only a tad, tilting his head as he peered around the Winchester to see the woman. "You can see, some of me, can't you? And you spoke to me, when the woman was close to being irreparably injured-"

"And you will be fixing that-!" her voice was sharp, and shrill, as she swung her hand out from behind Dean to point accusingly at the angel, "If you can cure blindness, you are fixing whatever damage you've done to her eyes. They didn't completely get destroyed, but they are damaged."

It was quiet, again, and CJ sucked in another loud, shuddering breath, before tucking herself back behind Dean. She knew for a fact that Castiel would not hurt Dean, so she was in no way hindered by the urge to protect him.

"And what visage are you in, now, huh?" the bitterness had returned to Dean's voice as he brought up the prior issue, "What, holy tax accountant?" A small laugh echoed behind him, and he almost twitched back to swat at the camera he knew was peeking over his shoulder again.

"This?" Castiel pulled at the lapels of his now bloodied trench coat, inspecting his clothes briefly before looking up at Dean with the same level of neutrality he'd retained throughout the entire exchange, "This is a vessel."

"You're possessing some poor bastard?" Dean scoffed, he couldn't believe the audacity some creatures seemed to have toward human life.

Castiel, however, had an argument, or more, statement, to sway that complaint, "He's a devout man.. And he actually prayed for this." He seemed so sure of himself, and justified in his actions. Dean was having none of it. "Look pal, I'm not buying what you're selling. So who are you, really?"

"I told you," Castiel stated simply, the softest furrow in his brow as he tried to understand this man. Was he not the righteous man? Shouldn't the righteous man have more faith than anyone? Shouldn't they believe and pray the deepest? He was certain, and faithful to his superiors, so perhaps there was something about this man that he was unable to currently see..

Dean, dissatisfied with the answer, clicked his tongue, and adjusted his stance, feeling the firm grip on the back of his coat loosen gradually with each, even breath he took. "Right. And why would an angel .. ..rescue me from Hell-?"

"Good things do happen, Dean," Castiel's voice was soothing, and CJ had to step out from behind Dean when she heard Castiel getting closer, positioning her body quickly so she was directly beside him again, then moving her foot forward, a frown on her face that mimicked Dean's when his hoarse voice cut through. "Not in my experience."

CJ held her shoulders high, and glared sharply at the angel when he had met her eyes. "Not on this planet. There is always something going on behind the curtains. That's just how it is when you all preach about the bigger picture. You're the only ones who are ever around for it, anyway, so why should you care about the blips on the credits screen?"

His eyes flickered with confusion, but she had said what she needed, feeling a sort of grounding sensation flow from her back in warm waves when she felt the flat of Dean's palm press against her spine.

"What's the matter with you two?" Castiel was genuinely curious, and confused, and it hurt more than CJ cared to admit. His eyes found Dean's, and he read his eyes and soul like a billboard. "You don't think you deserved to be saved?"

Dean swallowed, the adam's apple in his throat bobbing with the strain of keeping himself together. The weight against his palm pressed back, and he reflexively curled his fingers into the soft, fleece-like material, his eyes flickering closed as he felt something, something he wasn't certain about, curl around his body like a protective shield. He felt as if it were a physical mask, so when he opened his eyes, and saw nothing there, he dismissed it as nerves. "Why'd you do it?"

Castiel, unused to the dryness of the vessel's mouth, licked his lips softly before he answered, his words slow, and calculating, as he kept his eyes locked with the tightly-wound hunter.

"Because God , commanded it."

They met eyes, and CJ could feel her hair sticking on end, the need to protect Dean from future ailments clashing with the need to run in the opposite direction and pretend she'd never met the magnetic duo of disaster at all.

"Because we have work for you."

And it was with those words that CJ knew.

She was never going to be able to turn around.


	10. Chapter 10

"Tell me what else it could have been-?!"

"All I know is I was not groped by an angel."

CJ scrubbed resolutely at the tin she had used to make the casserole they'd had for lunch. Currently, a pie was in the oven, as well as a tray of cookies.

She'd had to smack Dean's hands repeatedly away from both mixtures throughout the entire cooking process. They'd been home for three days now, and Dean had finally caved in Sam's pestering about where they had gone. Hence the argument that was now blowing up in the kitchen. Sam had tried, multiple times, in demanding that CJ either confirm or deny the fact that Castiel was an angel, but her expression remained blank, and she kept silent. She hadn't spoken at all since that night, other than quietly asking Bobby what he would like to eat for each meal, or if he'd needed a refill with his beer.

She couldn't even look at the boys unless they were standing directly in front of her. She was sick to her stomach, wanting nothing more than for this all to have been one long, elaborate dream..

That she'd wake up with drool on her face, ruining her laptop while she lied sprawled on her bed, effectively late for her krav maga class, or even her morning lecture, if she'd slept long enough.

"Okay Dean, why do you think this "Castiel" would lie about it?" Sam demanded.

No, she wasn't waking up from this.. And that was was scared her more.

"Maybe it's some kind of demon, huh-? Demons lie-!" Dean was adamant about this, and he didn't look ready to back down anytime soon.

She set the now cleaned tin in the drying rack, wiping her hand on the dish towel as she ignored the men not five feet away from her as they argued heatedly. She slowly untied her apron and glanced at the timer. There was still a few minutes before it would be time to pull out the cookies, and another two for the pie. Turned to open the fridge, she was once again struck with the sound of their argument.

Oh how I wish this would end.. But that would have been mercy, wouldn't it?

"A demon who's immune to salt rounds-? And devils traps-? And Ruby's knife-?!" Sam threw up his hands in exasperation, "Dean, Lilith is scared of that thing-!"

"Don't you think that if angels were real, some hunter, somewhere.. Would have seen one..?" his voice raised a pitch in his frustration, ".. at some point, ever-?!" CJ plucked two beers from the fridge before closing it with her hip, darting past the duo in silence; she did not want to be dragged into this conversation again .

"Yeah.." Sam gave a nod, "You just did, Dean.."

Dean rolled his neck pointedly, running his hands quickly through his hair in what almost resemble anxiety, "I'm trying to come up with a theory here, okay? Work with me-! CJ-!"

Said woman flinched as she held the beer out to the hunter crouched over a large Christian text, having lifted his eyes at the offering and given her an expression that showed both his exasperation at her sudden Paula-Deen behavior, as well as slight sympathy for the boys constant bickering. "Tell Sam that angels don't exist-!"

"Smite me, Winchester," she barked, the abrupt, loud snap, causing the boys to jolt. It was the first time she'd talked to them in days and the expression she gave them was nearly feral, "Leave me out of it . I am not getting dragged between the two of you. I will not take sides. If one or both of you is in danger, then I will step in, but otherwise- ignore me-!"

They flicked their eyes away from her silultaniously, eyes lowering in various levels of guilt, Dean more so than Sam. Letting out a heavy sigh, the taller of the two returned to their conversation, "Dean, we have a theory."

"Yeah, one with a little less fairy-dust on it, please," Dean requested petulantly, running his hands over his face roughly. He hadn't been getting much sleep.

"Okay look," Sam insisted again, his hands were still moving with her words, CJ almost wanted to call him desperate, "I'm not saying we know for sure, I'm just saying that I think-"

"Okay-, okay-" Dean cut him off quickly, one hand moving toward his brother in an effort to stop him in his tracks, the other grounding himself by gripping his hip. "That's the point. We don't know for sure. So I'm not going to believe that this thing is a freakin' angel of the Lord because it says so-!"

CJ saw the exact moment Bobby stepped in, the near exact moment after she had flinched at Dean's final outburst.

"You two chuckleheads want to keep arguing religion? Or you wanna come take a look at this?"

CJ perched on the edge of his desk, glancing down to the page he had opened, tracing the detailed image with her hazel eyes.

"I got stacks of lore, Biblical.. Pre-Biblical," Bobby began once the boys had finally come inside the room, glancing hesitantly at the woman beside him before coming closer, "..some of it's in damn cuneiform.." "I can read that," the woman piped up, gaining the room's immediate attention, although her eyes stayed locked on the strange symbols, "I can read most everything short of the word of God, I'm guessing.. And those tablets are a literal headache I don't even want to attempt.."

"What languages do you know-?" Sam asked quietly, his mouth pressing into a tight line when she reached out her finger to trace almost lovingly along the border of the drawing. "I know two, I guess, English and I'm calling it Celestial. Celestial is literally every language combined, so any other language is like tuning into radio after a few seconds.."

"Couldn't have told me that earlier?" Bobby scoffed, raising an eyebrow when she gave him a sheepish smile, "...Have I mentioned that I hate screwing with the events surrounding those two?" The boys shared a brief look, and Bobby shook his head with a sigh, turning the book in his hands around with a firm tap, "It all says an angel can snatch a soul from the pit."

"What else?" Dean demanded.

"What else, what?" Bobby scoffed.

"What else could do it?" Dean repeated shortly, he rubbed at the print on his arm subconsciously, the muscles in his back noticeably untightening when he felt a grip settle against the back of his neck and give a smooth, pressed knead.

"Airlift your ass out of the hotbox?" Bobby met his eye, and if he could see that CJ was lifting an arm awkwardly to the now slowly relaxing Winchester's shoulder blades, he didn't say anything. "As far as I can tell, nothing."

Bobby sat back in his chair, reaching for his new beer and popping the seal for a sip. Dean let out a slow, deep breath, feeling the hand fall away from his back as Sam started to speak, his left hand twitching toward the woman, but remaining stubbornly at his side.

"Dean this is good news," Sam insisted, much more quiet than their previous argument had been.

"How?"

"Because for once," Sam seemed elated now, his eyes lighting up in excitement and awe as he finally felt the justification to his idea, "this isn't just another round of demon crap. I mean- maybe you were saved by one of the good guys-"

"I'm gonna stop you there," CJs voice cut him off sharply, and when he shot his eyes to her, her palm was raised out toward him sternly, eyes narrowed when she'd gotten their attention again, "First of all, that is a dangerous line of thinking, so stop it now. There is no such thing as a good or bad guy. Only morals drawn by the individual wrought by their experience in life. So, cliff notes? Black and white doesn't exist, the world is a thousand shades of grey, and angels are, in a large majority douchebags, with litteral holier-than-thou attitudes and disregard for human existence."

"So they are real?" Sam breathed.

"Did you not just hear what I-" CJ cut herself off when the timer dinged, and she shot Sam an expression that was unreadable, before she turned on her heal and stopped off in silence.

"Okay," Dean had trailed his eyes after the female walking away, but when he'd notice Sam ding the same, he'd brought himself forcefully back to the present, "Say it's true. Say there are.. angels. Then what, there's a God ?"

"You meet him , too-!"

The shout brought their attention to the woman in the kitchen, the female currently hunched over the tray she held of round, steaming cookies, the scent of chocolate drifting through the room as she stood up, "Mid Twenty-sixteen, if I'm not mistaken.."

"We.. we meet God ..?" Sam repeated breathlessly.

"The Father of all and world's biggest coward?" the sarcasm was thick as she perked up, feigning curiosity, "Why wouldn't you-? Shit seems to hit the fan whenever good starts going for you."

"Well aren't you a bucket of sunshine, today?" Dean huffed, giving her a look of absolute doneness.

"The pie's almost done, Cowboy."

Those five words had something warm churning around him again, and he shook it off with a physical shudder and a shake of his head. "I.. I don't know, guys.."

"I- I know you're not all choir boy about this stuff," Sam tried to shake himself back into the present, trying as hard as he could to get his brother on board with the situation. "But this is becoming less and less about faith, and more and more about proof."

"Proof?"

"Yes."

"Proof that there's a God out there that actually gives a crap about me, personally?"

"I'm not stepping into that shit," CJ muttered, setting the piece of pie she'd cut out directly on the table in front of Dean, the fork sitting precariously on the edge of the plate, and setting another piece down for Bobby, "Apple cinnamon pie, if you want ice cream, there's vanilla in the freezer"

Dean hesitated to pick up the plate as she turned and walked away, her back straight and her hair swaying behind her as she wiped her hands on a small dish towel.

"I'm not buying it," Dean admit after she had disappeared around the door, the sound of her steps echoing through the house, and out the front with a loud click.

"Why not," Sam asked quietly

"Because why me?" Dean insisted again.

Bobby let out a sigh through his nose, reaching forward for his plate and cut off a piece of the sweet dessert as the two argued.

"If there is a God out there, why would he give a crap about me?"

The bite hovered inches from his mouth, and both men found themselves staring directly at the elder Winchester, wound up to the point of shifting on his feet while his hands clenched and unclenched restlessly at his sides. "Dean-" Sam had tried to interrupt, but the Winchester had been quick to cut him off, "Yeah, I've saved some people. I figure that made up for the stealing, and, and the ditching chicks. But why do I deserve to get saved-? I'm just a regular guy-!"

"Apparently you're a regular guy, that's important to the man upstairs," Sam's relaxed, thoughtful conclusion only seemed to make Dean more uncomfortable.

"Well that creeps me out." He scoffed, shaking his head as he absentmindedly reached out to grab the plate, "I mean, I don't like getting singled out at birthday parties, much less by God. " As he cut his fork into the pie, barely thinking about whatsoever, his brother lightly tapped his shoulder.

"Well, too bad, Dean.. Because I think he wants you to strap on your party hat."

Dean cleared his throat, shaking his head as he pointed his fork, now loaded with a bite toward the book, "Fine, ah.. What-ah.. What about-" A moan cut his words off, and both boys glanced down to see Bobby with a fork stuck in his mouth, eyes closed. "Mother of God.."

Dean hesitated at the sight of the older man, glancing down at the plate he had suddenly realized was in his hands, before glancing at his slightly weirded out brother. Slowly giving a shrug he lifted the fork to his lips, his eyes flickering shut as a louder, more relaxed moan passed his lips. " Holy .. Mmnn "

"You guys need a minute?" Sam asked quietly, shuffling one foot back while a smile toyed at his lips.

"What the Hell did she put in this-?" Dean muttered, looking down at the treat, now held almost delicately by the plate in front of him, "We have more, right? She said she made more.."

"Don't you go eatin' all that on your own, boy, last I checked she was mad at you both."

"Why, though?" Sam asked quietly, glancing briefly toward the direction of the front door, just in case she had suddenly barged inside, before turning back to the two grown men now nursing their food, "One minute she's happy, the next she's cold."

"She's never happy, if she grins like a loon, it means she's terrified." Deans statement had both hunters staring at him in silence, and he helped another bite into his mouth before he addressed them with a glare, "You really think she's that easy to switch moods?"

"Well.. she was in a mental institution.." Sam defended quietly. The look Dean gave him was almost a physical smack to the back of the head.

"She's from the future, and she gets psychic visions more than you even use to. Hers are every night."

"Whenever she sleeps," Bobby corrected cooly, shaking his head when they had turned to him, "She tries not to sleep at night for that reason, or if she falls asleep in the middle of the day, same thing."

It was silent, and they sobered, and Dean took another, long look at the book on the desk.

"Fine. What do we know about angels?"


	11. Chapter 11

CJ sat atop the tallest tower of busted cars, one leg swinging softly back and forth as she scanned the makes and models.

She prefered something smaller, but if it came down to it, she was up to remodeling a truck.

"Find anything?"

The voice below her didn't surprise her, though the level of covered concern it held, did.

"Just a couple bodies, the rest is easy findings," she called down calmly. She stayed perched on the bent hood, glaring down a bit when she noticed the elder Winchester eye the structure openly, probably judging how physically stable it was and looking back up to her expectantly. "You wanna come down here?"

"Not really," was the smooth answer.

"CJ," her name rolled off his tongue calmly, and he swallowed, before shaking his head, and reaching forward to grasp the nearest piece of metal, "Don't move."

"What the Hell do you think you're doing-?! Do you want tetanus-?!"

A thump on the ground sounded beside him and he saw the woman hurriedly righting her balance, shooting him a look of irritation and clear exhaustion. "Don't climb that. I did it because I am small and light, you are large and muscled, I do not advise that."

"Why aren't you sleeping?" he asked calmly, his arms folding across his chest as he leaned back against the pile, one ankle kicking up so his toes dragged in the packed dirt, "Don't even deny it. Bobby's seen you pouring over books when he goes to bed, and you're still at it when he wakes up most nights."

"Sleeping makes me have visions, but you already knew that, didn't you?" she rolled her eyes, turning on her heel and plopping herself onto the dirt, her back facing him as she sat Indian-style on the ground. "What do you even care?"

"I don't, I just dont need you half-dead in a crucial moment where if we're not quick, we die."

"Who are you trying to convince, Dean Winchester?"

Her question was met with silence, and both adults closed their eyes, sitting in the silence broken only by the wind and the insects around them.

"Ask."

"What?" he broke out of his relaxed trance with a snap, turning his head down to see her dragging her fingers through the dirt slowly, making small trenches with the ends of her nails.

"Ask me what you want to," she rephrased her words slowly, not turning her head or even acknowledging that he stood towering behind her. "I know you want to ask."

"I don't."

The statement caught her off guard, and she managed to turn her head just enough to see him from the corner of her eye. Dean kept his eyes locked on the house in the distance, tracing the outline with his pale green eyes and chewing on the inside of his cheek.

"I don't know why you seem to think you're just a magic eight ball, but we, me, Sam and Bobby, we don't work like that.. This.. this is hard for you, just like it is for us.. And I know you're uncomfortable, you can't really hide that.."

"What are you trying to say, Winchester?" she asked quietly, leaning her arm back so he could see a better portion of her torso, the red flannel unbuttoned down the center, leaving her dark blue tank top in sight, the straps of her black bra peeking out into view. He almost smacked himself for glancing at her chest, reminding himself that this was a serious conversation, even if his eyes hadn't strayed any lower.

"Just.. I just wanted you to know that we're not going to use you, like you seem to think that we will."

"I'll believe that when you prove it," was the only thing she offered. Getting to her feet, she dusted off the back of her pants, holding out her forearm to him firmly, "Promise me you won't question my life choices and we'll be fine. I have an agenda, I've told you that. Plans that need seen through if I want to prevent a shit-ton of death."

"I thought you hated the big picture," he scoffed. She smiled, then, a grim twist of lips that had his stomach turning in similar unease, "I do." She nodded, lifting a hand to push the fringe of her bangs from her eyes, "But the death is only a blip in the credits, for all of this piling shit."

She stood, unmoving, as she held out her arm, and ever so slowly, he lifted his, tapping them together lightly and holding them there for a long, silent moment. When it was broken, by the sound of the eldest hunter calling for them, they lowered their arms, sharing a single, knowing glance, and moved to head back to the house.

"Where'd Sam go?" she asked quietly, sitting precariously on a stack of tires, eyeing the shining black Impala as it entered the yard with no small level of awe. It was the first time she'd actually taken a good look at it. Dean had taken one look at her expression and practically fluffed up with pride for his baby. "He went to get chips, we seemed to have ran out." He gave her a pointed look, and she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Have you ever had doritos? They are, like, the king of all chips."

"No, french onion and cheddar ruffles."

"Damn," she muttered, actually caught there as she gave him a slow, narrow-eyed nod, "Alright, I'll call truce."

Bobby came back out of the house with a worn grey duffel, tossing it to Dean so he could place it into the protected encasement of his Chevelle trunk.

The Impala finally rolled to a stop as it pulled up beside the Chevelle, and CJ's eyes poured over the beautiful machine with no small level of appreciation.

"Keep the engine running." Bobby was quick to walk over, leaning down to address the brunette behind the wheel.

"Why, what's going on?" Sam sounded a bit concerned, but also a bit on edge. Bobby didn't seem to notice. CJ, however, spot it like an emergency light. Looks like she needed to give Ruby a call..

Bobby leaned forward on the window ledge for a better vantage point, "I got a friend, one state over, Olivia Lowry. I've been trying to reach her for three days on this angel thing. It's not like her to ignore this many calls."

"Olivia Lowry- a hunter, right?" Sam confirmed. Bobby, nodded, letting out the quiet, nervous breath he'd been harboring, "We're gonna go check on her. You guys follow me."

CJ waved a bit when Dean walked over, basically claiming the drivers seat and dictating Sam to shotgun, with a silent, reverent sigh, she hopped down from the tires, and grabbed her bag, stepping over to Bobby's Chevelle and tapping on the glass. "Room for one more?"

"Hop in," he nodded his chin, and she smiled, tucking herself inside and closing the door carefully. She tucked her bag by her feet, and adjusted herself in her seat before flashing him a grin, "I don't mind whatever music you want to listen to, it's literally all older to me, anyway."

"You're a surprisingly easy shotgun," he gruffed, glancing over when a red bag was held out to him, and he accepted the small packet with a role of his eyes, "Do you eat anything but M&M's, girl?"

"My go-to for any and all of life's questions," she rolled her shoulders in a careless shrug, and settled in for a long ride.

"Olivia-?"

Bobby's voice echoed through the silent house, and CJ shut the door behind her quietly. Sam glanced back at her briefly at the sound, glancing from her recently-brushed hair, to the sawed off that had been unceremoniously shoved into her chest by Dean, and the rolled-up sleeves of her teal colored flanel.

She looked up at him when she'd felt his gaze, and as Bobby walked deeper into the house, Dean at his flank, they shared a silent, searching look, before moving to follow.

He would ask her, later.

Bobby seemed to have stopped cold at the opening to the next room, his gun hanging by his side as the brothers caught up to him and stared. There was a torso on the ground, female, judging by the length of hair, and her torso was torn from the inside outward.

CJ gulped a little, feeling the bile touch the back of her throat at the rotting, sick smell, and shoved herself out of the way as Bobby turned around and hurried to leave the house. She swallowed harshly, lifting a hand to cover her mouth and nose as she hurried to follow the boys inside. She looked around at the simplistic decor, flinching at the sight of the body again, before forcing her eyes away.

"Salt line," Sam's voice cut through her mantra of the Latin alphabet, and she tore her eyes from the ceiling to the doorway in question. Glancing up, she saw the closet, opened, with the weapons on display. Frowning, she tensed her shoulders, and lowered her hand, breathing through her mouth to stand the stench. "What do we do about the weapons? Someone is going to come to investigate, eventually, she can't be caught with them.."

"We should tell Bobby.." Dean murmured after a moment, glancing solemnly at the body before turning his gaze to CJ who stood huddled near the panel now, looking just a tad green. His eyebrows furrowed, watching her hands twist around her gun in a rhythmic motion. "You can wait outside, you know?" He jerked his chin toward the doorway when she barely looked up, for emphasis adding, "Maybe you should ask Bobby what our next move is.. Sam and I can finish up around here.."

A clatter came from behind them, and the object of their conversation strolled in, none too graceful, looking dazed. "I called some other hunters nearby.."

"Well that's good, we could use the help," Dean nodded.

"Yeah," Bobby nodded slowly, but the pure, unadulterated dread in his eyes was not missed by any of the adults, "Except they ain't answering their phones, either.."

"Somethin's up, huh?" Sam confirmed.

"You think?" Bobby scoffed. His eyes trailed back to the body and the ground, closed, then opened, and he turned around to resolutely leave the apartment once again.

"We've checked up on Carl Bates and R.C. Adams," Bobby's voice was loud compared to the silence of the Chevelle, and CJ sat in equal silence over the box in her arms. The trunk was loaded with the hunter gear they'd had to clean out, lest their previous owners be given bad names or placed fines on existing family. "They've redecorated. In red ."

CJ had held off the vomit for two houses, Olivias and Carl's, but when they'd gotten to Adam's she'd lost her stomach promptly in a trash can in a neighboring lot. Bobby had held back her hair, but said nothing, and they did there job in resolute, synchronized silence.

"I don't know," Bobby's voice continued after a few beats, Dean had most likely asked something, "But until we find out, you guys better get your asses to my place."

He clicked the phone shut, and no sooner had they pulled up to the house, CJ had rushed to his side of the car, and slammed his door shut. "Girl, what in the Hell are you-"

"Let me check the house, first," she demanded calmly, he took one look at her pale, gaunt face, and his features slowly hardened. "If there's a ghost in there-"

"It'll pick off a hunter," she finished firmly. "I'm not a hunter. I didn't piss it off."

He eyed her for a few seconds, seeing the pleading in her eyes grow with every second, and he let his head briefly fall back against the seat, before he jerked his chin toward the trunk, "Get the salt guns, iron, anything you need. Now. If you're not back out here in five minutes, I'm going in." "Give me ten," she shook her head, pursing her lips when he turned his disapproving look at her.

"..Fine."

The trunk, when it had been closed, let a resounding slam echo through the yard. She brandished the iron chains around her shoulder like a lasso, clutching the sawed off and loading the salt rounds into her belt as she ran quickly up the steps and slipped inside.

The second the door had closed, she'd rushed to the research room, tearing open the large bag of salt she'd gotten from Olyvia's, and lining the doorways. She'd lined the windows, as well, making a good circle around the desk and fireplace, as well as taking the chain and wrapping it around the window latches, barring the shutters together.

When she'd finished, she nodded quietly, the lights hadn't started flickering, but she was unwilling to let this happen any slower than it had. She ran for the upstairs in a burst of speed, forcing the doorway in the hall closet open and carting down the large, heavy red box so she could put it under the living room desk.

Hurrying outside, still holding her gun up and ready, she waited for Bobby to come inside, his own gun up and visible as he did the same and hurried up the steps. When he'd taken a good look at what she'd done to his living room, he opened his mouth, shut it, and gave her a long, serious look. When she merely blinked, not saying anything, he shook his head, and looked pointedly toward the handful of books left on the desk.

"Crap.." The power died around midnight, and the laughter of the little girls echoed loudly through the halls all throughout the night, Bobby sat awake, pouring over the books she'd picked out for him, letting the brunette sit as guard with the shotgun in her lap and a stony expression on her face. When the power had finally been cut off by the vindictive twin girls, she'd merely stood up, went beneath the couch, and pulled out a large case of candles in various lengths.

"What didn't you remember to pack for this little joyride?" he asked slowly, watching as she lit candle after candle and placed them pointedly at his desk, using small plates as saucers and lighting them with a worn grey zippo.

"Well," she sniffed, giving him a slow, calculating look, "I have no intention of using a bucket, so I hope you can hold it until about six.. That's around the time the boy's will be here."

" Great. "

"Bobby-?!"

"Living room-!"

The boys, who had entered the house, guns drawn and tense, jumped a bit at the call from just a room or two away. Keeping their guns level, they shared a look, hurrying past the corners and taking sweeps of the hallways before they reached the opening for the main library.

"Hello boys," the lone female nodded towards them, a british lilt to her voice that her grin meant she had quoted something, "How was your night?"

Dean and Sam stood in silence as they stared at the rings and lines of salt, iron chains hanging from the windows, locking them tightly together, a case of candles spread out over every available table surface, and what looked like several broken hula hoops piled in one corner. CJ currently had one in hand, a bag of salt slouching over her shoulder as she poured it into the hollowed tube.

"Sam got beat up in the men's bathroom and I almost had a heart-attack when I couldn't get ahold of Bobby. Speaking of, where is he?"

"Little boy's room," she shrugged. She continued with her task, weighing the hoop in her hands before setting it back down and continuing to pour the salt in the little funnel. Her voice was low now, calm, and she sounded almost relaxed as she asked, "Why does Sam's face look like it was introduced romantically with a semi?"

"A ghost appeared at a truck stop.. It was… His name was Henricksen, and he died.. Lilith killed him.." Sam had worked his jaw to let out the words, his eyebrows pinching together when she set down the salt, then twisted the hoop back together and stood up again, settling it around her waist and tossing it sharply before fixing it into a smooth twirl.

"What are you doing?" Dean couldn't help but ask as they stepped inside the salted room, careful not to break any of the lines as they eyed her up and down slowly, confusion and something else replacing anything else they may have been thinking.

"Making sure the hoop doesn't snap and send salt everywhere."

Her response was clipped, and after a minute more of silence, she seemed satisfied, and let it clatter to the ground. She kicked it up with the toe of her boot, and caught it with her hand, holding it out to Dean with a blank expression. "If you want to leave this room, you wear this. No exceptions."

"It's a hula hoop," Dean repeated immediately, staring at the sparkling green child's toy with more than a little bit of exasperation, "What will that possibly do to help in this situation?"

"Aside from being an unbroken ring of salt?"

Sam flicked his eyebrows up at the sassy comeback, watching his brother grimace in distaste, opening his mouth again, most likely to demand a better solution, but when a flush sounded from around the corner, and a door opened, the fight left him. All three adults looked up quickly when Bobby had rounded the corner, a shotgun over one shoulder and his free hand holding a sparkling blue hoop around him. Sam bit back the sudden, overwhelming urge to laugh, though Bobby seemed only mildly irritated, sending them a glare when Dean opened his mouth again, and once again shut it.

"You best listen to the girl tryin' to save your sorry asses.. Embarrassment be damned, I'd like to live to see the end of this."

"Atta boy, Bobby," CJ called out in casual encouragement, "Since the tweedles finally showed, how about we catch em up to speed?"

"No one's gonna ever get to your speed," Bobby huffed, shaking his head as he dropped the hoop to the hook by the fireplace and settled into his chair again, his back giving a mighty protest before he popped it out and relaxed. "The spirits are more than just that.. They're tied to certain people in a different way."

"So they're all people we know?" Sam mumbled.

"Not just know," Dean corrected him calmly, continuing to load his weapon, "People we couldn't save."

"I saved Dean an ass whooping from Meg Masters."

The pure smugness in her tone had earned her a glare from the aforementioned hunter, but she merely grinned and waved away his annoyance. "I prepped as much as I could in the ten minutes Bobby gave me, I've been building since then."

"Building what?" Sam couldn't help but ask, seeing the now obvious bag of childrens toys sitting directly beside the couch. Not only were there five hula hoops, three of them broken open, but there was a large number of colorful children's water guns.

"I'll explain after you sit your butt down," she stood up after her statement, brushing her hands briskly to rid them of the stray grains, and motioning for the two men to hurry up and get further into the room. "Come on, come on, we don't have all day.

"Sam, sit," she pointed sternly at the couch, where Dean had plopped down, and when he had merely stood there, looking from the toys, to her, and back again, she inhaled deeply, leaned forward, and snatched the collar of his shirt to jerk him eye-level with her. "Sit down before I start talking. We'll talk later, alone , but I am not going to sit on my ass and waste time while you get bruises and I get unnecessary facial pain, which, by the way, is already starting to throb. Sit. Down. "

When she had let him go, Sam hesitated for only a few seconds before doing as she said and plopping into the seat beside his brother, pointedly ignoring the knowing smirk the elder Winchester had shot at him and choosing to inspect the plastic bag at his feet.

"You went to a toy store? During this?"

"Like I said, I'm not sitting on my ass," she huffed, rolling her eyes as she walked into the unprotected kitchen, no weapon in sight. Dean, seeming to notice this, got to his feet in a rush, hurrying to the doorway just as she turned to glare at him. "What are you doing? At least take a salt-hoop or something-!"

"I was not involved in anyone's deaths," the female replied calmly, taking a large baking sheet from the cupboard while she was at it so she could place Sam's ice-pack and towel on a tray with beers and a few slices of pie. "Why would they hurt me. If they actually take a look at this, I'd look like a victim in their eyes. I'm not a hunter, and yet, I feel, and acquire, the physical injuries both of you seem to attain on a daily basis. Not only that, but I'm unable to be away from either of you too long or my body goes into a sort of numbing shock." She set the tray down on the desk with her last word, and wrapped the pack in the towel before moving over to be in front of Sam. "Now hold still. I need to make sure none of these broke skin."

Dean had gone for the pie a few seconds after he'd seen her set it down, carefully scooping a bite into his mouth as he looked between her, Sam and Bobby. "So what now," he spoke around the mouthful, licking his lips to catch stray bits of sugar-dressing, "we wait for these ghosts to show up and try to kill us?"

"That depends," Bobby asked calmly, flicking his eyes between the boys, "That Henricksen fella, did he have a mark, or brand on his skin?"

"Yes, yes he did," Sam moved to get up, but the hand on his shoulder pushed him sharply back down, the glare from the woman silencing his brief protest before he continued from his seat as he was treated. "Why, is that important? What does it mean?"

"Draw it out," Bobby held out a scrap of paper and a pencil, letting the younger Winchester grasp it before he pulled away to reach for his glass of whiskey. "When you're done with that, we've got to get a game plan sorted out."

"I saved us a couple hours and a trip to the panic room," CJ offered calmly, giving Sam a warning glare when he'd forgotten to put the ice back on his face. Seeing her pointed look, his hesitantly returned the towel to his temple, handing over the finished design to Bobby who settled back into his seat with a strained sigh. "I've seen this.. So we're not completely screwed.."

"Wait- you have a panic room?" Dean's question seemed to catch up to the forefront of his mind, and the three simultaneous bitch faces he received at the words had his hands flipping up in defense, "Jeez, alright, sorry.."

"Later, Cowboy," CJ amended softly, turning back to her nest of projects as she sat back into her large circle of salt. "Toss me my rosaries and the glue gun, would ya?"

The wires of the house began to fuze again, the lights gaining a quick, unnatural flicker. The boys tensed, reaching for their guns while Bobby merely reclined, flipping through the last few books CJ had plopped into his hands with a determined flip to his fingers.

"Will the two of you chill the Hell out?" the woman groused, seeing the younger men's eyes dart to her in frustrated confusion, "The both of you blind, as well as slow? This room is the second safest in the damn house. First being the panic room. It's about as ghost proof as we're gonna get it while still being in reach of the right tools."

"She's not wrong," Bobby huffed, not even glancing up from his tomb as he spoke, "Believe it or not, the iron chains double as locked doors. They can't get in the windows, and the salts held down heavy with how much she poured. We'll be fine for a good while."

Giggling echoed throughout the room, and it was followed by a whimsical, yet pained female one.

" Dean~ "

"Meg Masters, ladies and gentleman," CJ huffed, frowning deeply when she glanced to see the flickers outside of the open doorway, "The chick I saved Dean from getting his ass whooped by."

"She would not whoop my ass," Dean defended immediately.

"Would you really hurt a girl you know you played a part in killing?" she raised an eyebrow, but the sarcasm in her tone did not diminish his slight flinch, "It happened. Get over it." her eyes darted to Sam, his foggy-eyes almost puppy-like in grief as he most likely remembered Henricksen, and her own hazel orbs narrowed, " Both of you. People die. That's how the world works, so suck it up, " she cocked her sawed off loudly, loading the shells in place and absently aiming toward the doorway as the blonde haired female stepped into the light, looking frustrated and angry, ready to open her mouth to speak, "And do your job -!"

A shot rang out, and the woman disappeared with a yell. CJ reloaded the shot she'd used, and set the gun back down, holding her hand out impatiently for the glue gun that was held limply in Dean's hand. "Cowboy, I really don't have the patience to sit still while you hold that."

"Sorry.."

Deans murmur was quiet, and a bit raspy, but when she'd turned to look up at him, lifting her hand to grab the tool, she gave him a slow, shallow nod. "You've got nothing to apologize for. Not to me, at least."

It was quiet for two counts, before CJ took the gun, and pointed her finger toward the mess of empty shells on the end table and the bag of salt. "Alright boys, make yourselves useful, we need all the salt rounds we can get if this shit goes sideways."

"Who died and put you in charge..?" Sam muttered under his breath, ducking sharply out of reflex when a rosary went sailing toward his head, hitting the back of the couch and falling to the seat in the process. "Geez, I was kidding.."

"Kid with me after we put them to rest," she growled, but the teasing light in her eyes was clear to see, and the twitch at the corner of her mouth was too pressed to have been anger.


	12. Chapter 12

They had sat in silence for nearly ten minutes, Sam and Dean loading salt rounds with passive aggressive efficiency, while CJ mumbled Latin under her breath over the openings of the now filled water guns. The caps of the guns were filled, on the inside, in hot glue, with a good piece of the rosary chain hanging down to be in the water.

Dean slowly stopped his packing, glancing from the kneeling, muttering girl, to Sam, who, infrequently now, lifted the slowly melting ice pack to his face. A quick glance at Bobby showed the hunter was no closer to the answer than ten minutes ago, and he was as restless as he could be. "You see, this is why I can't get behind God."

"What are you talking about?" Sam slowly set down his ice pack, looking over to his brother with a curious, almost wounded expression. Hadn't they been over this..?

"If he doesn't exist? Fine." Dean set the sHell he'd been working on down on the table, his jaw tensing as he sat back in his chair, "Bad crap happens to good people. No rhyme or reason; just random.. Horrible.. Evil.. I get that. Okay, I can roll with that, but if he is out there-?" He sat up again, this time more firmly, his hands making gestures as he enunciated his words, he really was getting stressed about this. "What's wrong with him..?"

CJ had a million and two things to say about that, but wisely kept her mouth shut as he worked through his frustration. He needed his minute to rant.

"Where the Hell is he while all these decent people are getting torn to shreds?"

Dean slapped his hand against the table lightly, drumming his fingers restlessly against the wood as his face contorted in both annoyance and lack of hope, "How does he live with himself..? You know, why doesn't he help?"

The boys looked directly at CJ then, staring in silence as she capped the last gun, her head perking up and her body giving a shudder as she turned her head to see three sets of eyes boring into the flannel against her back.

"What?"

They were silent, glancing between each other before looking back at her.

Her eyes shot open wide and she rapidly shook her head, muttering obscenities under her breath as she dropped the gun to the floor and shook her hands quickly in front of her chest, "Fuck no- Nuh-uh, I ain't touching that with a fifty foot stick. Hell no -!"

They were quiet for several counts, and then, Bobby shook his head, breaking back to the present.

"Found it," Bobby's voice cut into the silent, shared look the two brother's now held, and they both turned to look at him quickly as he held up the book, his thumb keeping the pages open to display the symbol Sam had drawn, with just a tad more detail. "I'd looked through it a bit earlier, when I'd had these books shoved at me-" he shot a look toward CJ, who was now innocently whistling as she toyed with the ends of her water gun, "-It's called the Mark of the Witness."

"Witness," Sam repeated, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tried to mentally piece together the puzzle, "Witness to what?"

"To the unnatural," Bobby lifted an elbow over the back of his seat, getting comfortable as he got into his 'teaching' mode, "None of them died what you'd call 'ordinary' deaths. You see, these ghosts.. They were forced to rise. They woke up in agony. They're like rabid dogs- It ain't their fault." He paused, glancing between them all with a heavy expression, " Someone rose them. On purpose."

"Who?" Sam took a glance at the book, but the font was a bit too flowery for him to skim it for answers.

"Do I look like I know?" Bobby scoffed, shrugging a bit as he glanced over to CJ, who had moved to load the finished salt rounds into pocket sashes. "But whoever it was, used a spell so powerful, it left a mark, a brand , on their souls." He sat up a bit as he brought out his hands, trying to gesture exactly how serious and important the information really was. "Whoever did this had big plans; its called the Rising of the Witnesses.. It figures into an ancient prophecy."

"Wait-wait-hold up," Dean got up from the couch when Sam did, both moving to crowd over the desk to get a good look down at the worn tomb, "What book is that prophecy from?"

"Well," Bobby gave a shrug, his eyebrows furrowed thickly as he flexed his jaw, "The widely distributed version is just for tourists, you know, but.. Long story short.." he paused then, flicking his eyes toward CJ before settling them firmly on the boys, one last time, "Revelations."

It was silent, and the Winchesters watched him with faint confusion, slowly grappling onto anxiety as they took in Bobby's body language and tone. "This is a sign, boys.."

"A sign of what?" they asked in unison. CJ snorted loudly from behind them, earning several sharp looks, before the attention was returned to Bobby.

Leaning back in his seat, he let his shoulders hunch low, suddenly feeling the lack of sleep he had gotten the night before.

"...The Apocalypse."

"You tell 'em, Singer," the female voice called out, the woman having slammed her tools down onto the table and plopped her butt into the cushions with a grunt, "Confirm what I have been telling all three of you for a week, now."

"The Apocalypse," Dean repeated, swinging his eyes from bobby, to the girl, and back again sharply, trying to demand answers but not sure who to ask first, "As in; Apocalypse, Apocalypse? Four horsemen.. Pestilence.. Five dollars a gallon gas, Apocalypse-?"

"That's the one," Bobby nodded calmly. "The rise of the Witnesses is a.. A mile marker."

"Okay," Sam cut in quickly, his leg was shaking, and he looked just about as anxious as Dean did. "So, what do we do, now?"

"Roadtrip," Dean blew out a breath, huffing as he turned back to the couch and pushed aside CJ's propped up legs, ignoring her protest as he plopped down beside her, "Grand canyon? Star Trek experience?" He clapped his hands when Bobby and Sam only stared at him, but the smile on CJ's face was a lot more relaxed and warm. "Bunny ranch," he snapped his fingers, looking toward the two other men with sarcastic hope.

"I'm in. Sign me up. Bunny ranch, anyone?" CJ offered lightly, grinning when they all turned to look at her in equal states of shock, "Mardi Gras? Mini Golf? Believe it or not, I have never been to an aquarium.."

"You want to go to a bunnyranch?" Dean repeated quietly, looking at CJ with a slight tilt of his head, "You do know I'm not talking about the little fluffy, rodents, right?"

"Sexy, red haired women," CJ looked up at him with her eyebrows raised, "Why in the Hell wouldn't I go?"

The room took a collective moment to take in her comment, and Bobby rolled his eyes.

"First things first," Bobby pointed out calmly, "How about we survive our friends out there."

"Heads up," was the only warning the boys received before a shot rang out, and CJ casually lowered the gun back to her side, the black mist fading from the doorway where it had almost immediately appeared. "Keep talking."

"Any ideas aside from staying in this room until judgement day?" Dean asked after a moment, reaching up his hands to rub at his temples. Bobby tapped the book with his pen, shaking his head as he turned back to face the desk properly. "It's a spell. To send the Witnesses back to rest. It should work.."

"Should, heh," Sam gave out a quick, disbelieving laugh, "Great.. Any input, CJ ?"

"It's not a waste of time, if that's what you're asking, Lucky ."

"And if I've translated correctly," Bobby continued, ignoring both of the young adult's snarky, thinly veiled jabs, "I think we've got everything we need here at the house."

"Any chance you've got everything we need here in this room?" Dean asked, though his hope was clearly thin. "You think our luck was going to start now all of a sudden?" Bobby scoffed.

CJ grinned a little, humming a bright tune that immediately caught the men's ears when she hopped up from her seat and moved to get beside Bobby. She fell to her knees and dragged the heavy red hex box out from under it, placing it on the desk with a thunk. Opening a drawer with a practiced ease, then pulling out several other items and laying them out in turn. Finally pointing to the bowl on the end table, she flashed the silently staring men a smug, relaxed smile. "Apparently it has."

"Okay.." Dean murmured slowly, looking over the items on the table before giving her a slow, relaxed nod, and giving her a single, accusing point, "You.. You are really.. Something.."

"Thank me later," she shrugged, bending over to brace her hands on the edge of the desk and blowing a lock of brown bangs from her eyes, "Hemlock, opium, wormwood.."

She felt the flannel slip over her left shoulder, ignoring the way it fell down her arm as she lifted her hand to pat the top of the red box, "The red hex box from the linen closet upstairs.. It's a bit heavy. Everything should be in here.."

"Yeah.." Sam murmured under his breath, tearing his eyes away from the slouching teal fabric before locking them sternly on her face. She lifted her eyes up to him a moment later, and he was glad for his timing. "We really need to talk about this when this is over.."

"I'll say," Bobby scoffed, opening the box with a sharp shake of his head, "but it'll be after dinner and three beers.."

"Cowboy, wanna cover with me?" she asked quietly. He seemed to shock himself back into reality, swinging his eyes around a bit before finding her again with a hum. "We should have enough rounds for Bobby to finish the spell unhindered. But it's not bad to be safe."

"Ahm- yeah- Yeah I'll take kitchen.."

"Don't cross the salt, Cowboy," she warned playfully, reaching down to pick up and iron poker from the stand and pass one to Sam, "You too, Lucky. Always good to have a backup."

They each picked up their guns and cocked them, and no sooner had they done so did the lights begin to flicker. CJ could hear giggles, and the angry grumbling of multiple people. Flipping off the safety, and held it up to her eye, glaring a bit down the line as she took a knee and aimed at the entryway. Dean was just a few feet away from her, standing, but with his gun raised more to his chest. Sam stood by CJ, standing tall as they listened for the first of many ghosts.

" Bob- "

CRACK- !

The twins had barely materialized before they were blasted away, and CJ didn't even flinch as she cocked the gun again, and waited.

" Winches- "

CRACK-!

The sound came from the kitchen, and by the voice CJ knew that Henricksen had made another appearance.

" Dean- "

Ronald.

CRACK-

" Sam- "

Meg.

CRACK-

" B- "

CRACK-

" De- "

CRACK-

BOOM-

CRACK-

CRACK-

CRACK-

SWIFF-

CRACK-

SWIFF-

SWIFF-

CRACK-

CRACK-

CRACK-

The explosion of light was sudden and swift, white and blue in an almost holy essence bursting from the fireplace and sweeping through the house. CJ felt a coolness wash over her with the spell, and her eyes remained wide open as she drank in the light. It felt like jumping into the cool ocean on a hot day. Fresh and cleansing..

Her gun fell to the floor with a clatter, and she fell to her knees soon after. Her forehead pulsed suddenly, and she felt a pain bleating behind her eyes.

Mayhaps it wasn't a smart thing to keep her eyes open, then..?

After blinking a few seconds, she narrowed the pain down to be coinciding, and closed her eyes with a groan, throwing her head back and practically growling out her words. "Alright, which one of you dumbasses didn't close your eyes? I have a migraine now, and I am not cooking with fifty-percent of my usual balance."

"Dammit.."

Damn it, Dean..


	13. Chapter 13

"M' so tired.." CJ was sprawled, starfish style on the perfectly clean floor of the sitting room. She was facedown, with her hair pooling around her head, her shoulders and the floor in a poofy brown mess. The boys had been given clean-up duty, while she was in charge of picking up her new toys and putting them in the closet.

The best part about those weapons, is that they couldn't get in trouble for owning them if they're found by law enforcement.

She really did love tumblr..

Before she went to sleep, she needed to pray to Lucifer.

Aaaaggggghhhh.. She wasn't sure if she would be on key, or be able to sing without yawning.

Oh well, she'd do her best.

What to sing, tonight..

What to sing..

What.. to..

….To..

…

A foot connected firmly with her side and despite not being harsh, she had sprung up, her foot connecting with someone else's side. Her arms moved, pushing her momentum to spring her in a flip as she gave a battle cry. " Aaugh-! What the- What the fuck Sam-?!"

She felt a sharp pain in her own side, and fell to the ground with a whine, clutching her left side with a gasp and pressing her forehead to the floor as she listened to Sam's similar grunt of pain, "Yeah.. I'm not doing that again.."

"Dammit Lucky.. Don't ever do that again.."

While they both recovered from the sharp kick to the lower ribs, they breathed heavily, and sat slouched on the floor.

Finally, after completely waking up, the female sighed, reaching over a hand to press into the dip of Sam's shoulder blades, rubbing down firmly and smoothing it out when she felt the knots that had accumulated there. "Sorry for kicking you, Lucky. It's a knee-jerk reaction. Literally."

"No, I get it," he crouched a little, rolling his shoulders at the foreign touch, but feeling them gradually loosen, then melt, as the pressure continued to increase, her thumb driving small, harder circles into his skin until he'd hung his head with a soft grunt.

"Whoops, sorry." The gentle hand disappeared, and he almost felt the need to lean back into it again. Almost. Sitting back up, he lifted his arms far above his head, twisting his spine with a satisfying pop and hearing a good number of cracks follow suit before he sat back down. The room was much cleaner than the mess of salt, iron, and children's toys it had been. Not a trace of the nights earlier events in sight, leaving only the towers of books and warn, old furniture.

"That talk.." Sam spoke after a few moments of silence. Dean was somewhere else in the house, probably getting changed. And Bobby had retired to his room after eating some heated up casserole they had in leftovers. "I'd rather have it sooner, than later.."

She studied his face when she'd turned to him, already being thoroughly looked over by the younger Winchester as he'd been speaking. His powder blue-green, and sunflower eyes now boring down intently at her with something akin to impatient determination.

"Alright, Lucky, let's take a walk, then.."

* * *

It was nearly ten minutes into their walk around the salvage yard, almost as far as physically possible as they could get from the house, when Sam finally spoke up, his voice grating with nerves, adrenaline, and possible anger.

"Well, I'm waiting. Say it." He hadn't thought she'd speak immediately after he had, but he'd been wrong before.

"I think you're stupid and easily manipulated, but I like you anyway so I'm going to keep your secrets until you pull your head out of your ass to tell Dean on your own or until it blows up in your face with outside interference."

Her mouthful was quick, like ripping off a band-aid, but the grin on her face was bright, and her hands stayed shoved deep into the pockets of her too-big jeans.

Sam stared blankly at the woman who stood in absolute silence, his eyes blinking slowly as he registered exactly what she had said, what she had meant, and what she had implied.

"What do you know.."

"Everything," she shrugged. "The demon's blood, Ruby, the plan to gank Lilith. All of it."

His hands twitched at his sides, and when she saw the ire in him rising, she lifted up her hands in a sort of surrender, her voice still relaxed, and near gleeful, "It's okay. I'm not gonna tell Dean. That's your decision to make. Besides, you are an adult. You can make your own decisions and mistakes."

"You called me easily manipulated," he pointed out quickly, his eyes narrowed as he brushed a hand roughly through his hair, letting it fall back perfectly into place without even trying. She was almost jealous. Okay she was actually jealous, but..

"Because you are ," she nodded her head in agreement, keeping her eyes open and on Sam when he'd made a move to start pacing back and forth, rubbing at his jaw with one hand and his other tugging at the material of his flannel. "By the standard in my visions, you're still a baby. You've got a lot of, pardon my choice of words, but, growing up to do." When he'd shot her a glare that could have roasted Lilith on the spot, she gave a soft, calming smile, "Trust me, there's a lot you don't know. A lot you'll never believe until you see it for yourself. But know, at least, out of everything else, that I'm here to help. You've already lost so much.. I'm not going to let you lose any more."

The hand that had covered his jaw slowly lowered back to his side, hanging like dead weight, while his other gripped even tighter to his shirt over his broad chest. "You won't tell Dean? Why? You seem pretty close to him." There was a bitterness in his voice that even surprised him, but she didn't seem the least bit affected, shoving her hands back into her pockets as she gave him a wide, fox-like grin, "Nah, I kind of like watching you play doomed lovers with the demon-girl. It's kind of cute."

"Ha-ha," he laughed, sarcastic, but quiet, his jaw ticking in the effort not to grit his teeth. "How am I supposed to trust you?"

"Well, what do you want me to do?" she asked calmly. "If it's something that wont fuck with the future, go ahead; because I like how the majority of the details go, otherwise I'll need to do something else." It was quiet for a full minute, but he couldn't find anything substantial to ask or demand that wasn't about the future. He wasn't above torturing the information out of her, but he also knew that if he waited long enough, she'd be willing to share it on her own. She said it herself.

She liked him.

Maybe he could use that.

It was better to wait a while, however, the sudden shift in forced politeness to suave would definitely tip her off, not to mention, he had to be careful on how her psychic abilities worked.

It was settled then, he'd ask casual, curious questions over the next few days until he was comfortable enough in putting his plan to action.

The plan that took about eight and a half seconds to make.

"If you want, I can tell you an embarrassing memory," she offered simply. He'd shot her a wary look, and she shrugged, rolling her eyes upwards in thought, "Or I could tell you the story about the necklace you gave Dean.. the story about how the demons blood began.. Azazel's involvement, or I could tell you why I think you're easily manipulated."

"...The last one," he murmured after a few seconds of thought. They'd stopped now, right between where a row of cars began and ended. They each, without words, took a seat on one of the hoods, facing each other, but not making eye contact, choosing instead to lift their eyes to the polluted sky. CJ silently wondered if she'd ever see the beautiful stars they'd gotten to in the show.

"First of all, you're following around Ruby like a demented puppy. One, she's a demon , they are manipulative by design . Sure she was human once, but unless you have something that's going to bring out her true humanity, not that forced, dewy-eyed, casual crap she's pulling, then I'm going to continue to hate her. I like her, a little, as a character, in what I had thought.. Was just a bunch of stupid dreams.. But this is real, and, despite my better judgement, I trust you , specifically you , in making those decisions. I have faith in you. You and Dean and Bobby. And that is where my faith in anything goes. And as much as I love Castiel, with a passion, actually, I wouldn't put my faith in him, today, tomorrow, or even next week."

"But-.. But he's an angel?" Sam seemed honestly stumped by this, his face looking almost insulted, "They're the good guys." "I want to hear you say that in a year," she smiled then, but it was less sly fox, more cautious puppy. "Six months. Actually. Six months, tops."

It was quiet again, and the Winchester ran both hands down his face in a firm attempt to clear his mind.

He would think on it later, for now, he had to take care of the pressing issue.

Like earning her trust.

Which would probably take a lot longer than he was hoping.

Oh well, until Ruby had any good leads on Lilith, he had all the time in the world.

* * *

Dean awoke from his place on the floor with a jolt, sitting up with a quiet grunt as his eyes locked on the lean legs of his brother coming from the kitchen. Sam stepped around him quietly, before perching on the sofa, and grasping the flannel he'd hung over the back. He slipped one arm in, and finally looked over to his brother, a bit surprised to see him awake, but giving him a worried smile all the same. "You alright?"

The elder's head stayed bowed, eyes distant as his mind tore through the conversation he had had with the ethereal being. Sam slipped the rest of his shirt on, his worry finally leaking into his voice. "What's wrong, Dean?"

Blinking his eyes to clear them, clearing his throat and looking up at his brother with such lost, broken eyes it was a wonder he hadn't shed a tear in his sleep. "So.. You've got no problem believing in God, and.. and angels..?"

Sam buttoned his shirt up quickly before brushing the hair from his face, giving his brother a light shrug. "No, not really."

Dean was quiet, his eyes fluttering shut as he processed the words. Sam's eyebrows furrowed, and his mouth twitched into a frown, "Why are you asking me this?"

Dean kept his mouth shut, but the meaning behind his eyes was clear.

A thumping echoed from the stairs behind the elder male, and both sets of eyes turned quickly to see the brunette sashaying down the staircase, bright purple cords hanging from the headphones over her ears and her arms swinging around to keep balance as she walked, or more, danced, her way towards the kitchen.

The brothers paused for a moment to take in the fact that she was silently dancing, her mouth parting around silent words as she got into the kitchen, the doors opened wide as she peered through the fridge and began plopping items on the counter. A twist helped her grasp her apron and tug it on, followed by a heel-tap to the fridge door to shut it and reaching high for the pan handle above her. Her eyes trailed to the living room and she hopped back with a yelp, fumbling for balance as she landed on her rear, out of sight to them due to the desk, and scrambled back to grasp the side of the stove and haul herself to her feet. "What the fuck-?! Don't stare at me like that-! The both of you nearly gave me a heart attack-!"

They broke out of their collective trance immediately, both of them shooting the other a look of confused surprise. Both?

"What are you doing?" Dean asked after a second, rolling himself up to his feet and reaching for his shirt. The woman frowned at the move of his hands, her nose scrunching up almost delicately as she eyed up both of their outfits, closed her eyes and shook her head. It wasn't worth it.

"Cooking breakfast and praying. Any other questions?"

"Why aren't you wearing pants?" Sam asked, almost hesitant with his lighter, lilting tone. Dean seemed to break out of his funk to look at him, eyebrows raised, before returning to the woman. What he had thought were a pair of black shorts, were men's boxers. Huh.

"It's covering my ass, so I see no reason you would be panting," she scoffed, blunt and completely done with the situation as she righted her headphones, and rolled her eyes. Dean catching up to what she had been saying, shook his head, raising his hand and waving his arm to grab her attention before she could turn around. Rolling her eyes again, this time more dramatically, she pulled the headphones off of her ears and raised her eyebrows at him expectantly. " What ?"

"You're praying ..? And with music in your ears?"

"You can pray silently," she shook her head at him in disbelief, closing her eyes as she brought a hand to her temple, "And I sing to whom I pray to, thank you. Great, now I'll need to start over."

She fixed the headphones again, and moved to start the breakfast dishes, cracking eggs into a bowl and pulling out the ham she had bought, along with cheese, chives, olives, and any other bits and pieces she could think of they may want in their omelettes.

Sam flicked his eyes from her bright purple headphones to her sleek, wavy brown hair, down to the long sleeved black shirt and the men's boxers held up bareilly by the cinched elastic. Sharing a final look, the brothers broke away to finish their morning routines, and while Dean left to go get something cleaner on, Sam took a seat at the table, resting his chin on his fist as he watched her work. Now would be a good time to ask questions, but the ones he could ask had to start small.

While he mulled over the possible things he could ask her, her arms raised up in a spine-popping stretch, lifting the hem of her shirt almost teasingly and exposing about four inches of her lower back. The slightest hint of gold and black peeking from the space caught his eyes. "You have a tattoo?"

She had just lowered the headphones before he'd spoke, her thumb clicking for the old-ish iPod to stop playing. She turned her head, startled and confused, and glanced down over her shoulder as well as he could when he'd spoken. "Which one?

"You have more than one," he sounded rather surprised at that, his eyes flicking curiously over her body, straying toward her knee-socked covered feet but overall along her back. "What are they..?"

"Well, one's an anti-possession symbol," she offered him a slight smile as she turned back toward the stove, "The others.. Well.."

"Come on, I'm curious," there was a laugh in his voice, a playful one, and when she looked over her shoulder again, he almost looked surprised at the level of confusion that was on her face. "Why do you want to know?" "Well," he leaned forward, off of his hand, and adjusted his weight into his seat to be more open, relaxed, the searching gleam in her eyes unwavering as he continued, "We hardly know anything about you.. And, like Bobby put it, you've been trying to save our asses.. So.."

"So," she continued for him, leaning over the table to put the plate down in front of him, almost aggressively, while she met his eyes with a sharpness that hadn't been there before, "You want to make sure that I'm not a threat to you, or Dean, or any of your plans."

"No," fell out of his mouth faster than he processed, but he knew it was true, quite a bit from the mark, but not entirely untrue. "We don't even know your last name. All we know is that you're a.. Time-Traveling psychic that has this weird connection that if one of us is hurt, it echoes onto you. Which, in my opinion, has got to be the worst thing you could have gotten. Dean and I get beaten around, broken, bruised, and bled, on a weekly basis."

"I know," she let go of the plate, but she was still propping herself on the table, her eyes darting through his and searching with an almost concerned air. "Believe me, Sam, I know.."

Her voice was quiet, and she had closed her eyes, her lips pinching into a scowl as she gave a sudden hiss, her hand flying up to grip the side of her neck and sending a glare in the direction of the stairs, "For fucks, sake, Dean, do you need the water that hot-?!"

She blew out a sharp puff of breath and spun on her heel to fix the rest of the food, Sam watching her in silence as she moved like water across the length of the cabinet and back to the table. "Do you.. Like, cooking?"

"Not particularly," she shook her head in the negative, and he felt the actual surprise on his face before she smiled at him. "No, cooking is a pain in the ass all around, but if you need to eat, I'd gladly be the one to feed you. I told you if you need anything within my power, I'd give it to you, but I'm not an experienced hunter, and I'm not a miracle worker. So please keep that in mind."

"I will.." Sam murmured, his fingers tracing the handle of the fork she had set out for him before she left to wake Bobby up. "I will."


	14. Chapter 14

CJ sat curled up in the motel-room bed, awoken by the pain she'd felt sharply in her big toe. One of the brothers, she was certain.

She sat up just a bit from her ball at the sight of the looming shadow in the bathroom, reaching under her commandeered pillow to grab the gun she had tucked in the seat. When she caught sight of Sam's empty bed, and the felt the faint pull after completely waking up, she rolled her eyes, and tucked herself back beneath the blanket she had brought with her.

No way did she trust motels.

Light, smooth footsteps curled around the room, and she blinked her eyes open at the feeling of someone not three feet away just standing.

"If you're going to see Ruby, get gone before I kick you."

Sam jumped sharply at the voice of the woman directly behind him, but stayed silent, shooting her a sharp look when she slowly opened her eyes and gave him a withering glare. "Watch your feet, smartass."

Briefly recalling the pain he had put his toe through in the bathroom, he closed his eyes, and pressed a hand to the bridge of his nose, he opened his mouth, probably to whisper something along the lines of 'don't startle a hunter', but when she sat up, and pointed sharply at the window with a stern look, he inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and nodded.

When he'd silently opened the door, he'd paused, halfway out the threshold, and sent her a brief look of deep consideration, before offering her a short nod.

She was mere minutes into her dozing back into oblivion when the sounds of swooshing caught her ears. She hopped to her feet, ramming immediately into the large, blue wall of feathers and muscle and hitting the ground with a cry of shock.

Castiel shuddered from the sudden contact, whipping his head around to shoot a look toward the human avidly scooting toward Dean's position on the bed. She shook his shoulder twice, in a hurried fashion, and he bolted awake, taking one look at her pale, startled face to relax his grip on the knife beneath his pillow, but hold it steady as he tried to sit up.

"Hello Dean. ..What were you dreaming about?"

Castiel's voice was calm, despite scaring the living daylights out of him, and he shot the angel a look of adrenaline-fuelled annoyance. CJ hovered close behind him, her fingers twisting into the back of his shirt, murmuring the foreign words under her breath. The angel turned his eyes to her, narrowing them with a tilt of his head. "How do you know Enochian..?"

"I have no fucking idea.. And can you please tuck your wings back..? It makes me really claustrophobic.." She tucked herself against Dean's back after the comment and stuffed her face into his shirt. He squirmed a little, trying to dislodge her, but when she refused to budge, gave up, and swung a look of annoyance at Castiel.

"Do you get your freak on by watching other people sleep?" He tossed the covers of the bed away from him, grimacing at the vague memory that CJ had forced him to change into more comfortable clothing and actually get under the covers of the bed.

Sam had gotten a good laugh out of the petty argument, at least.

"What do you want?"

"Listen to me," Castiel's voice was lower, and he could not look either of the humans in the eyes as he turned his gaze toward the moonlight stretching across the bedspread through the window. Finding the courage, after reminding himself he was a soldier, he turned a more firm expression toward the elder Winchester, his jaw tense. "You have to stop it."

"Stop what?" Dean asked quietly, he felt the woman behind him shifting to peek over his shoulder, a few stray wisps of brown tickling his cheek.

The angel lifted his hand, two fingers held out, and was nearly touching the righteous man's forehead before it was sharply smacked away. " Oh no angel boy-! We get five minutes to pack before you haul our asses all over kingdom yon-!"

Seeming more startled by the fact that she had swat his hand than the words themselves, the angel shot her a look of deep concentration once more, his eyebrows furrowed and a frown set on his lips. "What are you?"

"A Prophet without the fancy security detail."

"Your name?" he demanded sternly. She snorted outright, grasping Dean's shirt and hauling him off the bed with her and rushing to grab her bag, "I don't know where the fuck Sam is, but angel boy seems pretty stern about this happening now ."

Dean was given two minutes to change, still reeling from his flashbacks of Hell, both on and off the rack, as well as with the sudden appearance of an angel and the return of CJ-the-Bossy-Lady.

She had hardly tossed his hunter's bag into his chest before he turned, feeling the touch on his temple before he saw the angel and his eyes flashing open with a start.


	15. Chapter 15

When Castiel had put his hand to her temple, she expected a zap, a tingle, or even a spark. When nothing had happened, and she only felt the increasingly awkward press of fingers in her personal space she flipped out and backed up, gritting her teeth in annoyance. "Why am I still here?"

"I don't know." Castiel's voice was nearly thunder-like in quality as he sent her a glare, lowering his gaze to the hand that had touched her and outright flexing his fingers. "It is as if a shell is encasing you. I am unable to wrap my grace around it."

"What," she scoffed, a frown furrowing her brows as a bit of disappointment touched her form, "You mean I can't go flying with any angels?"

"Not that I'd be able to see," he shook his head sharply, then huffed, "What are you. Answer."

"Yeah, I don't exactly _trust you_ right now..? Maybe in a year or two.."

"Tell me," his fist clenched sharply into her shirt, and her back was suddenly pressed against the wall, her eyes going wide at the sight of the large, gleaming blue wings rising in an almost threatening gesture. "I'm human, I swear. I don't have magic powers. Just visions of a possible future on repeat whenever I try to sleep."

"What is your name?" he narrowed his eyes sharply, "There are no prophets with the name CJ. Nor are there any names with such an initialism."

"Let go.. Of me.." her voice was thicker now, her breathing ragged as she glared into the man's stolen powder blue eyes, "I don't care how much I like you, I do not trust you _now_ . Go to Dean. And hurry. He's going to be attacked by Azazel, and if he dies, the righteous man's death is on your hands." He slowly let go of her shirt, and she slid down the wall until her feet touched the floor. She hurried to grab his sleeve when he'd lifted his wings, likely preparing for flight, and when he drew his eyes back to her with a snap, she gave him an almost feral expression. "And also, do not _ever_ threaten to send Dean Winchester back to Hell. Even if you _weren't_ bluffing, your superiors would surely smite _you_ first." At the flicker of indignation in his eyes, she finished, "He is far more important than you were told. Than most of the angels know. So treat him well, because it is _his_ trust you must earn if you wish to be close enough by his side to understand him."

When she had let go of his coat, not a second later, he was gone.

* * *

Three and a half minutes..

It was three and a half minutes of nonstop-trench-in-the-rug pacing. And every second was agony. Seconds stretched to minutes, and the minutes felt like hours. Her pulse thundered in her ears and the rushing blood echoed like waves on a windy beach.

She wanted nothing more than to go back with Dean.

But of course the, quite possibly only superpower she had was now also her greatest weakness.

She was like a glass jar. Unable to be angelically altered. She couldn't jump through time. Couldn't even get to fly with anyone...

It was not the first time she figured out she would need help.

And who better to help than the archangel currently playing Pagan.

She'd need to work fast, and she'd need to be convincing. She'd need to drill into this man's metaphorical head exactly what was at stake if things diverged from the set path until people could be saved.

She just had to live long enough to get to that point.

And to do that, she was going to need to talk to the angel.

_Fuuuuuuucckkkkk._

When Dean had appeared, asleep, on top of his bed, with his coat pulled over him like a makeshift blanket, she'd nearly cried out in relief. Instead, she threw herself at the sleeping hunter just as his eyes popped open, startling him twice as much as would have been normal as she pulled him into a rough, tight hug. She could feel the wetness of his eyes against her neck, and the spasmic, startled clawing of his fingers in the back of her coat felt hesitant. But as she murmured soft words into his hair, clutching him tighter as she gently rocked his shoulders, she felt him hug back almost just as much.

"I'm sorry- I'm so, _so_ sorry.. I can't _say_ much.. I have to _be_ there- and then Castiel couldn't bring me and-"

"I don't blame you, CJ."

His words were quiet, and dry, and she felt the tears falling from her eyes before she registered the stinging. She felt him pull back, sniffing loudly as she lifted her sleeve to wipe away what remained of the tears. His hand came up, and her eyes clenched shut, the moment dragging on like an eternity before Dean had pushed aside the hesitance, letting his fingers ghost over her face to push the damp bangs from her eyes, and tuck the largest section of hair back over her shoulder.

"We need to find Sam."

It had been only a half of a minute before his brain registered the empty bed again, and the angel standing just a few feet away, watching them intently with what he could only describe as profound confusion. Looking more like some lost puppy than what should be a feared, ethereal being of God.

Sitting up, he let her settle on the bed across from him, Sam's empty bed, and he addressed the angel with a breathless frown. "I couldn't stop it.. I couldn't stop _any_ of it.." He felt the hand on his knee, and he looked down to see the small, pale hand of their new resident psychic. He pressed his lips together, bowing his head in despair and shame, but did not comment on it, and did not brush it away. "She still made the deal.. She still died in the nursery didn't she?"

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Castiel did not look at his as he spoke, choosing to let his eyes glaze over in thought as he stood standing a ways away from them, probably trying to work out their giant mess of a puzzle. "You couldn't have stopped it."

Dean stood slowly, looking at the angel in disbelief. CJ's hands fell to her lap, and she wrung them out roughly, like trying to scrub dirt from beneath an icy faucet. "What?"

"Destiny can't be changed, Dean" Castiel's voice was laced with wisdom, and reverence, and he turned to face Dean directly, when he continued. "All roads lead to the same destination."

"Then why did you send me back?" The most broken, heart-wrenching pain settled in CJ's chest, and for once she didn't stop to wonder if it was hers or Dean's.

"For the truth," Castiel gave a small nod, flicking his eyes toward CJ with the faintest glimmer of searching. For what? Acknowledgement, input? His eyes flicked back to Dean, and he blinked slowly as he pieced together the right words. "Now you know everything we do."

CJ so badly wanted to bleat out how much of a lie that was, but she knew that this actually was the extent of Castiel's knowledge. She could hate Zacharia, Michael and Raphael all she wanted later.

"What the Hell are you talking about?" Dean demanded. Castiel's eyes slid to the bed CJ was sat on, the sheets looking untouched, otherwise. Dean followed his look immediately, and his instincts, drilled into him since he had been four, kicked into absolute overdrive. "Where is Sam?" he demanded. He had eyes only for the angel, ignoring the woman that darted behind him to grasp her duffel bag and lug Dean's onto her opposite shoulder to join the other.

"We know what Azazel _did_ to your brother," Castiel pointed out calmly, or more emotionlessly, as all angels without first-hand experience of hunger, thirst, and love often did. "What we _don't_ know is _why_ . What his endgame is. He went to great lengths to cover that up.."

"Where. Is. Sam?"

"425 Waterman."

Dean moved to grab his discarded jacket, shucking it over his shoulders quickly and absentmindedly touching the pendant around his neck to be sure that it was still there.

"Your brother is headed down a dangerous road, Dean. And we're not sure where it leads. So stop it.."

The elder Winchester turned back silently at the crypticness of the angel's comment. CJ stood resolutely by the door, silently informing him that she had his keys by the delicate way she held them by the key ring. His eyes flickered back to the angel, and they stayed there as he processed the rest of the angel's words.

"...or we will."


End file.
